Stolen
by Special Agent Snuggles
Summary: Donnie is kidnapped by the Foot, and Rahzar and Fishface are put in charge of his captivity. Their goal? To be human again, at any cost- unfortunately for Donnie. But, at the darkest point in his life, an unexpected ally may lend a hand. Set shortly after The Lonely Mutation of Baxter Stockman. (Warning! Donnie is in for a rough time in this fic.)
1. Kidnapped

Author's Note: This story gets the mature rating because it includes violence (nothing truly gruesome however), and very mature themes. It takes place before "Vengeance Is Mine", and is AU as a result. It follows cannon up through "The Lonely Mutation of Baxter Stockman".

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Kidnapped<strong>

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><p>"I seem to recall you being in this situation once before, turtle." Rahzar smirked, although the effect was mostly lost on his grotesquely skeletal face.<p>

Donnie just stared back, eyes half closed, stomach roiling, as he tried to mask his fear. He didn't have a witty comeback; maybe if the circumstances had been different, sure. But he'd just woken up with a throbbing pain lancing through his right temple, to find himself dangling a foot above the ground, suspended by manacles attached to his wrists. And unlike the previous time Rahzar, née Dogpound, née Chris Bradford had just referred to, Mikey wasn't with him, and he doubted that backup was on the way.

By habit, Donatello had already assessed the space they occupied, and had concluded two things. He was in a secure facility; this was no warehouse used by the Purple Dragons. It was, instead, a well lit, controlled environment filled with stainless steel surfaces, and no sounds from the outside filtered in. It was a proper chemist's laboratory, within a building likely controlled entirely by the Foot.

But it wasn't the Foot's headquarters, because the architecture was wrong. That meant Donnie was being kept in another building entirely. It also meant that the likelihood of his brothers quickly finding him had dropped exponentially.

Donnie's arms were already aching, the muscles trembling slightly. He wondered how long he had been dangling here, unconscious.

Rahzar leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing, and Donnie leaned his head back, trying to move away, wincing as he only made his head throb more.

"Donatello. The _smart_ one. You know why you're here, don't you? Of course you do." Rahzar crossed his arms, and Donnie's increasingly panicked mind pondered how Rahzar didn't injure himself doing so, given all the sharp edges to his second mutation.

"I want to be _human_ again. And _maybe_, once you make that happen, I'll let _you_ see the light of day again. Master Shredder is willing to supply you this facility, the tools, any materials you need. But..."

Donatello followed Rahzar's eyes, suddenly on edge as the mutant's gaze dropped down. In a quick motion, Rahzar lunged, and any thought of reasoning with him flew from Donnie's brain as a lightning bolt of agony stabbed into his left leg.

"AAAHHGRAAAH!"

Rahzar's needle point fingers were embedded in his shin. He pulled, in a dragging, downward motion, making the stab wounds elongate, until, with a yank, he pulled his claws free again.

Donnie temporarily saw white, his entire self focused on the agony in his shin. Somewhere, the logical part of his mind was assessing the damage. The protective plait of bone under his skin had been impaled, and a few deeper muscles, along with potentially a few tendons and ligaments, had been sliced apart as Rahzar had dragged his fingertips downward.

As if watching himself from a distance, Donnie was aware that he was still screaming.

In a swift motion, Rahzar straightened up and, using that same hand, swiped above Donnie's head, cutting his restraints. Donnie fell, entirely incapable of breaking his fall, to land in a heap on the floor. His head spun from the pain, to the point that up and down temporarily lost their meaning, and the only thing anchoring him was the cold floor under his palms. His breath came in harsh gasps. The barely coherent thought that at least he wasn't _screaming_ anymore, which was somehow comical, flashed across his horrified mind.

A moment later – or a minute; Donnie's senses were addled - he felt Rahzar's hand rest in a peculiarly gentle gesture on the back of his head.

"If it's any consolation, I consider this a necessity. You're a ninja, a formidable foe. I'd be a fool not to incapacitate you." Rahzar's hand pushed down slightly, and any hint of pity in his voice disappeared, replaced by detached amusement.

"Now...you'll be guarded 24/7, but if you want, _try_ to escape on that wounded leg, Donatello. I dare you. Just keep in mind, you don't _need_ your legs to make me retro-mutagen. I can always get you a nice _wheelchair_. Are we clear?

Donatello, covered in a sheen of sweat and trembling all over, bowed his head in a nod, the movement traveling up through Rahzar's arm. It was a moment of submission. He knew it, Rahzar knew it. Tears, from pain, but also from humiliation, fell to the floor as Donnie kept his head down, jaw clenched in fear and agony.

The most terrifying thing was that Donatello already knew things would only get worse, because there was no way in hell he would, or even _could_, make retro-mutagen. Not when one of the key ingredients was April's blood. But that wouldn't stop Rahzar from trying to force him.

As a few ninja who had been standing in the background stepped in, one with what looked like a medical kit, and Donnie found his grasp on consciousness slipping as he went into shock, he prayed that his brothers had a way to find him, and quickly.

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><p>AN: What do you think so far? I've got a few more chapters already written, and a plot outline in place. I'm keeping chapters short so that I can get them out; if you like my story please let me know. I find following through to the end of things *incredibly* difficult sometimes. But I really, really want to change that. As always, thanks for reading.<p> 


	2. Hey Sis

Author's Note: Thank you Pilyarquitect,Firefly Kisses, and Juanita27 for reviewing! I will always remember you guys as the ones who took time to comment when only a scant thousand words had been posted on this story! :)

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><p>Chapter Two: Hey Sis<p>

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><p>Word didn't take long to spread that the Foot held one of the turtles captive. At least, not in the circles Karai frequented. They held the brainy turtle prisoner; the one whose real fighting skill only surfaced when that girl, April O'Neil, had been Karai's target.<p>

Really, Karai _wished_ she knew what was so special about her.

At least it wasn't Leonardo they had captive. True, normally he'd be the most fun to visit, to point and laugh at, as he rightly deserved after betraying her. But the thought of being pestered about her "real father"; any mention of that at _all_, actually, would've been enough to keep her from visiting the katana wielding turtle. Karai didn't think Donatello would try that with her though; it seemed to be Leo's thing.

It had taken a little effort, getting his exact location out of Fishface earlier. He didn't like Karai, didn't trust her not to get in the way somehow. Donatello was his ticket back to humanity, after all. But Karai _was_ Oroku Saki's daughter, and failure to answer a direct question from her could mean consequences.

Two Footbots stepped aside to let her pass through the double doors behind which their captive was being held. Two ninja, from the more elite of Shredder's ranks, awaited her inside the room. She nodded to them briefly, as they fell back into their guard posts by the entrance.

Arms crossed, Karai glanced around, taking in the bright overhead lights, the faint smell of rubbing alcohol lingering in the room. It was an efficient, clean space. To the left was a set of storage cabinets, also stainless steel, six feet tall, and spanning the length of that wall. To the right, the room opened up to include three long, rectangular lab tables, parallel to one another. The two closest to Karai were covered with what looked like a chemistry project. The third table, from where she stood, appeared empty.

Donatello was there too, of course, standing behind the second table. He was completely still, staring at her, hands raised in the middle of pouring something from one glass container to another.

Karai stared right back, and after a moment his shocked expression faltered. He looked back down, and returned to what he was doing.

Karai was vaguely disappointed. Leonardo, at least, would've had something to say.

She made her way over. As she got closer she kept her eyes trained on Donatello's face. He held himself stiffly, only getting more tense as she drew near. Stubbornly, he continued working, even as she circled the second table to join him where he stood, stopping only a few feet away. She looked down at his work, but only a small set of samples in one section looked familiar; it was mutagen, the green glowing goop that created nightmare people.

Karai raised an eyebrow. "Quite a science experiment you have here, Donatello."

He didn't bother to pause in what he was doing. "Hey sis."

She bristled, caught by surprise, and reached out to grab his bicep. "I am _not_ your sister, mutant."

He finally paused, and turned to face her. Karai was unusually tall, and although Donatello was the tallest of his brothers, he only bested her by an inch or two. His eyes locked onto hers. "What do you want?"

Karai stared right back, caught by the intensity there. It wasn't annoyance or aggravation. His eyes were burning with some inner struggle. Not that she blamed him. His situation wasn't good. Her gaze flitted back and forth between his brown eyes, trying to read him for a few seconds, but when nothing changed, she frowned, and glanced down, losing interest in the staring contest.

Then she spotted his leg, very nearly doing a double take. _That_ might explain things. Starting below the knee, his left leg was wrapped in medical gauze, and dots of red had penetrated through in many places, indicating a laceration. She wondered if he was being given any kind of pain meds for it, and doubted it. Bradford would consider it motivation to work faster. Donatello was strongly favoring the leg, practically balancing his entire weight on the good one. The wound surely made maneuvering around the lab laborious, but then Bradford wasn't going to give a ninja highly skilled in the bo staff something like a pair of crutches to play with.

"_That_ looks painful. What happened?"

Donatello sighed, resting one hand on the table next to him. His voice came out soft. "Bradford happened."

Her eyes snapped up again, to his face. His eyes were narrowed, scanning the door, checking to see how far away the other nin were. She tensed slightly, but didn't sense any aggressive intent from him. Just weariness.

"Karai..." His eyes flicked over to meet hers, and for the first time she saw the desperation there. "_Help_ me. Please."

She held his gaze for a long moment, as if considering seriously, then snorted gently. As she turned to check out the third lab table, she could see him slump slightly in her peripheral vision, wilting.

Manacles. Someone had welded them to the table. There were two sets, and a fifth manacle, without a partner, centered most of the way up the table. Ankles, wrists...neck?

She caught a quick gesture from Donatello and glanced back his way. His face was dark, something bitter there as he considered the table with her. He leaned back, using his elbows to prop up his weight against the work table now behind him. Fatigue radiated from his figure.

"Bedroom, lab...Bradford's very efficient. Can't say my sleep's improved, though."

Karai glanced back to the table. "They manacle your _neck_. Paranoid much?"

As she stared at the table, imagining him prone on it, someone snapping that hard metal in place around his neck, her stomach twisted uncomfortably. The thought that she had come here to gloat drifted by, taunting her.

Donatello didn't respond to her question, and after a moment she glanced back again, his eyes catching her gaze for a moment. He looked lost, head half bowed. "Have you seen them?"

Karai cocked here head sideways, frowning. "Who?" Challenging.

His gaze flicked to the side, nervous, and his voice dropped low. "My brothers." He stared at her, and Karai felt her stomach clench uncomfortably. He hesitated, but she could tell he meant to continue.

He did, in a hint of a whisper, desperation lacing his words. "_...our brothers._"

She reacted without thinking, briefly furious. Her fist lashed out, cuffing him hard on the cheek. His head twisted to the side, but nothing else moved. As if he'd expected it. That only made her more angry, and she stepped close, getting in his face.

Karai hissed at him, keeping her voice low, but harsh with anger. "_I am an only child._" After a few moment, she backed up again, shaking her head. She snorted derisively, never dropping her eyes from his face, wanting to make clear where she stood on this topic.

Donatello was slow to meet her eyes, but when he did, it was with that same pitiable expression of desperate pleading.

_That_ was it. She was done here. Karai turned abruptly away, heading back toward the double doors. She called out as she went.

"You should step it up, turtle! Bradford's got a _short_ fuse."

Karai glanced back just once more, before heading out of the lab, and caught a glimpse of Donatello. He was hunched over the table, head down, face in the artificial shade created by the harsh overhead lights.

Emotions suddenly roiling, Karai kept up a brisk pace until she was entirely out of the building, and back in the sunlight of midday.

Visiting him hadn't been fun. It had been a mistake.

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><p>AN: I would love your feedback on this!<p> 


	3. Search Effort

Author's Note: I keep thinking I should warn you guys that this story will earn that M rating. Not in this chapter, but just...FYI. Also, thanks so much to the ones who have reviewed; I _really_ love to read your comments!

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**Chapter Three: Search Effort**

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><p>"April."<p>

April smiled into her T-Phone, feeling sheepish. Two weeks had passed since her dad had come back into her life again as a thinking, fully sentient human being, and April hadn't been around the guys much, as she focused on getting things back on track with her dad. But somehow, the better part of a week had slipped by without any contact, something she hadn't intended.

"Hey Leo! It's been crazy here, with my dad- I mean, _good_ crazy, but busy, with moving out from my aunt's, looking for a new apartment, helping my dad get back into his routine; just, you know...spending time..."

She laughed a little, and cleared her throat. "Anyway, I haven't seen you guys all week! How does a movie night sound? I'll treat you guys to pizza!" April bit her lip, and quickly continued, as curiosity got the better of her. "Um, by the way, what's Donnie up to? I tried calling him a few times earlier to ask what movie you guys might like, and never heard back..." She grinned, rolling her eyes at the workaholic, tone turning wry. "Is he working in the lab? I _think_ he's earned a vacation."

Even two weeks later, April was, in many ways, still flying on cloud nine. Donnie had brought her father back. That couldn't be emphasized enough: he had worked a miracle of science, and now her _father_ was back! Just thinking about the genius teenage turtle made her happy right now. He _really_ deserved to put his feet up, take a breather. But then, he really loved his projects, too.

With a jolt, April became aware of how long the line had stayed quiet. She briefly held the T-Phone away from her face to check; nope, Leo's avatar was still on the screen, and the phone showed a strong signal.

She put the phone back to her ear with a frown. "...Leo?"

Another second passed, then two. "April...Donnie's gone."

Leo's voice was off. _Really_ off. April unconsciously gripped the phone harder, thoughts of a pizza night at the lair forgotten.

Gone could mean...a _lot_ of things.

"Gone where?"

Another pause. A sigh on the other end of the line. "We...don't know. The Foot kidnapped him."

With a sinking feeling, April realized that Donnie probably was in the lab. Just not _his_ lab.

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><p>"What do you <em>mean<em>, they ambushed you?" April thrust her hands in front of her energetically, pausing in her frantic pacing in the lair's pit.

"They ambushed us. What's hard to _understand_ here, April?" Raph stood nearby, arms crossed, looking upset and more angry by the second. Leo and Mikey where both sitting on the couch, and for once April was the most energetic of the group.

She dropped her hands, looking angry and lost all at once. "Five days. _Five days._..and you didn't think to call me?"

Raph finally uncrossed his arms, spreading them in an angry gesture. "What would be the point?"

As April rounded on him, Leo got up. "What he _means_ is, we didn't have a reason to upset you, especially after you had just been reunited with your dad, April." He shrugged, and the energy went out of her frame. Raph shook his head, and turned away, heading for the punching bag.

April bit her lip, eyes wide as she stared into Leonardo's sad, but calm face. "I...could help. I _can_ help. Leo...they want him to make retro-mutagen. You get that, right?" She blinked a few times, trying to stop the tears that threatened to form.

He nodded, looking down at his feet, and she saw the weariness there, the worry etched into his youthful face. "But he can't. Right?" He glanced up again, seeking an answer he already knew.

April folded her arms around herself, her voice small. "No. Not without my blood." Her voice broke slightly on the last syllable. She slowly reached up, pressed her palms to her face, trying to stop the tears. Tears wouldn't help. They _never_ helped.

_Poor Donnie._

April finally lowered her hands again, her fingertips only trembling slightly. When she spoke, her voice was rough, but controlled. "Where was he when they took him? Did they take his T-Phone?"

Leo answered. "It was a dead end. We infiltrated the headquarters four nights ago. We got his phone back." He said it with the quiet disappointment that finding a phone rather than a missing brother would engender.

A particularly loud thwack came from the punching bag.

Mikey finally spoke up. "Fishface handed it to us. Well...kind of. He threw it at us, 'cause he was running away at the time."

Raphael paused. "Yeah...'cause if we'd caught him, you can bet he'd be _sushi_ by now."

April frowned. "Okay. So...you're _sure_ he's not at their headquarters, though?"

Leo responded. "Reasonably sure. We managed a pretty thorough search of the place, before we had to retreat. Plus, there's one major reason they wouldn't keep him there. Shredder never conducted mutagen experimentation in that building. I wouldn't expect that decision to change. He knows how dangerous the substance is, and I doubt he wants it that close to home base. They've always used other locations, like that place Stockman took you to. And no, before you ask, he's not there either."

April started pacing furiously again. "_Fine_...so, laboratories. Places you could work with mutagen, and with the equipment he'll need. We could start there, compile a list." She started toward the couch, intent on setting up her laptop.

"Someplace where nobody outside would hear you scream." Raph launched himself at the punching bag immediately after making the comment, as the others all paused.

April bit her lip again, and tucked her chin down toward her chest, trying to keep it together. As she booted up her computer, she surreptitiously brushed a hand across her face. Raphael...was right.

Leo came to sit next to her. "We've already started a list. Here, use Donnie's computer instead." April looked up, into Leo's eyes, and saw the pain there...and the hope that maybe she would see something they hadn't already.

As April looked over the research already gathered, and saw that nearly a dozen locations on their list had already been marked off – the places they'd already searched - she realized that Splinter had never come out to greet her. Her hear clenched as she imagined how he must feel. He was dealing with the possibility of losing another one of his children to the Shredder.

She _had_ to help make this right.

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><p>.<p>

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AN: Short as usual! Thoughts, comments, and speculation are all encouraged and loved.


	4. Intruders

Author's Note: This chapter's a little longer! (Rest assured that won't be the norm, though.) Thanks so much to Juanita27, kenzimone, and Piyarquitect for your comments in the reviews, I really appreciate it!

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><p>.<p>

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**Chapter Four: Intruders**

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><p>"He'll stay shackled, ninja's honor."<p>

"...promise to leave him in one piece. Go on. Enjoy a few hours off."

Voices, a man and a woman, trickled through to Donnie's semi conscious mind. The words were in Japanese. It sounded like a conversation among friends. He found himself waking more to pay better attention, his body aching more noticeably from the cold metal as he did. He kept his eyes closed.

Several moments later, a third voice, another woman, spoke from only a few feet away, nearly causing him to flinch. "I've never seen one this close up."

The man from before answered, sounding amused. "Master Shredder brought us here because of these freaks. Take a good look."

The woman replied quickly, her voice carrying an edge of excitement that put Donnie on edge. "I intend to do _more_ than look."

Donatello couldn't suppress a brief flinch as someone's hand, cold and petite and surely belonging to the woman who had just spoken, brushed up one of his thighs.

Her voice took on a lighthearted, sing-song quality. "Hmm. Are you awake? Wake up..." Something cold and metallic replaced her hand, sliding up his plastron to rest gently under his chin. "You can't fool me."

Donnie opened his eyes, focusing hard on keeping his heart beat down, on staying calm so that he could logically assess the situation.

The man chuckled from nearby, and the sound made Donnie's every nerve stand on edge. As if to confirm how bad the situation was, the man spoke. "We're going to have some _fun_ tonight, freak."

"What is he exactly, anyway?" Donnie's eyes skipped to the woman who still held something sharp to his neck. She seemed genuinely curious, eyes travelling up and down his form, taking it in. She had Japanese features, and bore the Foot symbol, sewn into the material of her ninja garb on the left shoulder, but the resemblance to the typical Foot soldier ended there. Her hair was pulled back in a flamboyant manner, with streaks of red through the black, obviously dyed that way. Her clothing fit too well, appearing to be custom made, and it was all too tight, hardly a good choice for a ninja trying to blend into the shadows, as every curve was accented. Donnie was tempted to raise an eyebrow.

"I think you have an admirer, Jan." Donnie's eyes flicked to the man. He was also Japanese; short of stature but strongly built, similar to Raphael. His hair was cropped short, his clothing loose and deep grey; a more traditional ninja. He wore the Foot's insignia on a bandanna tied around one bicep.

Donatello's third visitor, who stood further back, finally spoke again, her eyes distant, guarded. When their eyes met briefly, Donnie saw no amusement, nothing except the unreadable face of a professional ninja sizing up an enemy. Her clothing, as well, more closely matched the man's, although she wore her bandanna on her forehead, as it was intended.

"Do you follow our words, turtle?" Her eyes narrowed just slightly, cold and searching. Jan, meanwhile, pressed the sharp metal more firmly to his skin, nearly drawing blood.

"Answer her." The man spoke again, voice harsh.

"S-stop. I don't know what you're saying." Donnie glanced between the three of them, eyes wide, and didn't hesitate to play up his confusion.

"You think he's lying?" It was Jan again, the woman with a knife at his throat. She sounded amused, and a smile curved her lips. One of her hands was drawing surprisingly delicate circles on his plastron, inching lower as she went. Donnie tried to ignore the feeling; she probably wasn't aware he even felt her touch.

"Perhaps we can find out." The other woman moved forward suddenly, drawing something from under one arm. Donnie's eyes widened as he recognized the device.

The man snorted, and crossed his arms. "That's Masuda for you; straight to business."

"Unlike you, Hanza, I'm not here to play." She said it with clinical calm. Jan stepped quickly back, taking the knife; a kunai; with her.

Donnie didn't have time to relax. Masuda held a taser, and an instant later, the prongs were pressed against his lower thigh.

"N- AAAAHH!" His leg moved convulsively, pushing against the manacle holding it, muscles jerking and flexing as the electricity ran through. He saw spots in his vision, and then it was over, only a few seconds later, the after effects still causing various muscles to jump in his leg.

"Haaa...haaaa...haaaaah..." Donnie breathed in long pants, trying to focus, to bring the pain under control. He had a feeling that the more he screamed, the more he'd get hurt. That was just the kind of 'fun' these people were here for, right? He kept his eyes on the ceiling, face as close to neutral as he could manage.

The taser had been used on his bad leg. The muscles in his shin, which had been sewn back together by a rough and ready Foot medic nearly a week back, felt like they were threatening to tear apart.

Masuda, clearly the most psychotic one of the group, stepped closer to his face.

"Do you understand my words?" Donnie stared at her, eyes flicking back and forth between her own.

He knew it was probably stupid. But he couldn't give up on the chance that they might let slip something, anything that could help him escape this place..._if_ they though he didn't understand them.

"I'm sorry, but do you happen to know English? Last I checked, that was the primary language spoken in this country..."

Coherent thought deserted him, as the taser's prongs, chased nearly instantly by the devastating flow of high voltage, low current electricity, stabbed into his cheek.

He screamed again. The assault lasted a few seconds longer this time.

As the muscles in his right cheek continued to jump painfully, and he worked to get his breathing back under control, Donatello found he couldn't stop staring at the taser. His nerves were screaming, residual pain radiating out from both places the taser had been used. He gasped in a few deep huffs of air, and tried to think if there was any way to make this stop.

"Listen...Bradford wants me functional. You do that too much, and there could be permanent damage. Do you _understand_ that?" He flinched back involuntarily as Masuda, her eyes still cold and calculating, brought her hand up abruptly as if to strike him. She paused, eyebrows quirking just slightly at his reaction. They stared at each other, Donnie feeling desperation starting to set in.

"Why..." he swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady, "why are you doing this?"

The man, Hanza, finally spoke in accented English. "Because you are our enemy. And there are three others like you out there, monster. She's finding your...tolerance. Testing." He sounded amused, unconcerned with the fact they were torturing him.

Donnie stared back at the ceiling, mouth slightly open. There was nothing to say to that. They were going to make him hurt, and there was nothing he could do to stop them.

That was when he felt truly afraid.

_Oh God, please...Leo, Mikey, Raph...Master Splinter..._**please**_..._

A second later, the taser found its way to the center of his plastron, and the world turn white hot again.

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><p>.<p>

The thought that the torture was some test of endurance had barely gotten Donatello through the night before with his dignity intact. At points, the urge to break down and sob, to beg for them to stop, had almost gotten the better of him. But he'd found himself thinking of his brothers, of what _they_ would do. How they would be.

Leo would stoically take it. Donnie wasn't sure he'd even yell out, but he certainly wouldn't scream like Donnie himself had done. Raph would've been a demon, yelling at them, cursing them, threatening them from start to finish. He'd probably laugh in their faces and dare them to do more, promising retribution ten fold once he got free.

And Mikey...Donnie had shied away from thinking about him the night before. Mikey would've felt betrayed. He wouldn't have understood how someone could be so cruel. _Why_ they'd want to hurt him, just to see him hurt. Logic wouldn't matter to him, as all the reasons in the world would never have justified their actions in Mikey's heart. Donatello could practically see the hurt in his brother's puppy dog eyes.

Donnie hadn't thought of Mikey last night because the truth was that he didn't understand, either. Sure, he could list off their supposed reasons, could step his way through their logic. But he couldn't put himself in their place, couldn't truly _relate_ to what they had been doing to him. That feeling of betrayal, the sheer _hurt_ that someone would _do_ something like this to him, to anyone...

If Donnie had acknowledged that last night, he would've broken down. So he'd thought of Raphael and Leonardo, and desperately focused all his will on...on measuring up. He _wouldn_'t cave, he _wouldn_'t break.

Ultimately, he'd made it through. He had refused to give Masuda that victory.

Today, Donatello felt unbelievably worn down. The bright, artificial lights hurt his eyes, which had trouble focusing on things. His body, mind, and soul yearned for a safe haven, for home. In a sense, his brothers had carried him through the night before, but more than ever, Donatello longed for them to appear, and carry him _out_ of this place. But he knew he couldn't focus on a rescue that much, or despite his enormous effort the night before, he might still break down, right then and there.

So instead, Donnie went into an emotional space where the entirety of his situation felt distant, as he focused only on each individual task at hand.

When Fishface decided to pay a visit, maintaining that frame of mind became about ten times harder. Donatello felt a bitterness creeping in at the unwanted presence, at the smirk on the fish mutant's face. Resentment rose when Fishface took the rolling chair Donnie used to move around whenever the need to go to the storage cabinets or the "lavatory" in the corner of the room arose.

Not that Donnie would be caught dead relieving himself while Fishface was in the room. It was already humiliating enough that the guards gave him absolutely no privacy.

Fishface made himself comfortable, and as the time ticked by, Donnie felt himself getting more and more angry, more on edge. The fish-man seemed to enjoy lording the miserable situation over him, completely relaxed as he observed him work, throwing a cutting jibe his way occasionally. It didn't help that focusing on _anything_ was hard today. Maintaining a facade of busily working on the criminal's retro-mutagen cure took every ounce of energy from him.

Things finally came to a head when Donnie had to retrieve something from the storage cabinets, which meant a tedious fifteen foot trek as he limped there, then back; a trip usually made relatively quickly with the aid of the rolling chair. But Fishface had yet to vacate it, sitting back to front, with his Kraang inspired metal legs straddling the chair, skinny arms casually resting on the back.

On the way back from the cabinets, Donatello's vision blurred in and out for just a moment. He tripped, with arms full of breakable glass, but managed to curl into himself, ducking into a roll, and came out of it nearly okay, in an awkward one legged crouch. Then he overbalanced, taking weight on his hurt leg by habit.

"Agh!" The yell was half anger, half pain. Donnie sat abruptly, placing the glassware on the floor, letting himself recover as the muscles in his shin, which weren't up to being flexed in _any_ way, screamed at him for doing so.

Fishface gave a single, scoffing laugh. "Clumsy."

Donnie couldn't help it. He was suddenly furious, eyes going white. He picked up one of the beakers as if to throw it, and turned slightly to glare at Fishface.

Donnie's face was pulled back in a grimace of rage.

"You..!" He let the projectile fly, his arm temporarily controlled by his hind brain, bypassing rational thought. Fishface caught it easily, a look of surprise on his purple face.

"Maybe if I hadn't been tasered for hours last night, for _fun_, I wouldn't have tripped! Did you think of _that_?! Or if you weren't in my face...!"

Donnie grunted in pain, interrupted, because Fishface had immediately leaped up, and now gripped Donnie around the waist, lifting him up. Donnie, still infuriated, struggled in his grasp as Fishface half shoved, half dragged him along. Then Donatello was slammed bodily into the nearest wall, his head knocking back, and he was seeing stars for a few moments. He glared, trying to focus on Fishface, still furious.

Fishface glared back, eyes narrowed.

"I may have lost my legs, but these _arms_ could still cut you into turtle _soup!_ Perhaps I should pay you a visit _myself_ one of these nights!" His hands tightened on Donnie's biceps, squeezing hard, eyes narrowing further.

It was only then that Donnie saw the suspicion there.

When Fishface continued, his voice was softer, but full of menace. "You know what I _see_ in you, turtle? I see someone _stalling_. I do not know why; perhaps you are hoping you will be saved before you are forced into helping us, _yes_?"

Donnie refused to acknowledge his words. More than anything, he still wanted to take a punch at the fish mutant, but had no room to maneuver. A low growl escaped his throat, and if it weren't for his leg, he probably would've tried an attack anyway.

Fishface was hardly oblivious, and he stepped it up even more, yanking Donnie forward only to immediately slam him back into the wall again, using his metallic legs to add to the force. Donnie's head bounced hard against the wall.

As he blinked away more stars, some dark part of Donnie's mind hoped he'd get a concussion from the abuse. It would serve them right if he died in the night, along with their hopes of becoming human again!

Fishface leaned even further in, his face only inches away from Donnie's. "You can be angry. You can be _furious_. I don't care! But there is something you need to understand. I _need_ to be human again. And you? You can give that to me. Do not _test_ me, turtle. I will do anything to make this happen." One of his metallic legs inched forward, pressing against Donatello's wounded shin. Donnie let out a hoarse yell.

Fishface pressed in further, and Donnie's yell became a scream, as he writhed against the wall. The mutant's eyes were as hard and cold as Masuda's had been the night before. "_Anything_. So, do yourself a favour, and don't get too clever, Donatello."

Fishface stepped back, releasing him. Donnie clenched his teeth, hard, until his jaw hurt, bracing against the wall to hold himself upright.

He was sick of people hurting him just because they could. He was _sick_ of being powerless to stop it! He was...he was outraged at having people watching every little thing he did – _everything!_ - twenty-four hours a day!

He glanced over at the door, where his ever-present guards, the same two who had let his visitors in last night, stood silently observing.

Behind Donatello's anger lurked fear, bringing a cold sweat to his palms. He was _afraid_ to be tied down to that table again tonight, stomach lurching at what might happen this time.

Donnie's eyes flicked back to Fishface as the mutant crossed his arms. The mutant had been silent for several seconds. His eyes were hooded, impossible to read.

"But, since you bring it up, I will look into this unscheduled visit. I'm no fool, turtle. To work, you need to sleep." He dropped his voice, eyes narrowing again. "Just be certain that your work quickly _leads_ somewhere." With that, he turned toward the guards, who parted to allow him access to the double doors.

Donnie stared at his retreating form, eyes wide in surprise. He had assumed Fishface knew about last night.

The mutated criminal was good at reading people. _Scary_-good. As Donatello allowed himself to slide slowly down the wall to sit briefly, while the pain in his leg gradually reduced to a manageable level again, Donnie found himself praying that Fishface wouldn't share his suspicions with Rahzar.

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><p>Author's Note: Did I ever suggest this was going to be rainbows and unicorns? *quirks quizzical eyebrow* That said, you can still get angry at me if it makes you feel better! Please take a moment to leave thoughts, comments?<p> 


	5. Surveillance

Author's Note: All right, another short one! Woot! *Does fist pump* :P Thanks so much to those who reviewed last time. You have NO IDEA how much I crave feedback on this thing. You rock!

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: Surveillance<strong>

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><p>Karai couldn't <em>believe<em> she was doing this. Her scowl deepened, as she inched her way forward, working around the corner, while being careful to remain silent.

She was crawling, in the dark, through the duct work, in the building where the Foot held Hamato Donatello prisoner. Another few feet, and she'd be all set to start the second phase of her hair brained plan.

Karai rolled her eyes at herself, and continued inching forward. She could still turn around...but she'd thought that many times over, yet here she was. It wasn't like Donatello deserved _any_ kind of help, but no matter what her mind told her, Karai had still figured out a way to get the blueprints for the building, study them, and devise this plan.

So, there you go. She was certifiably insane.

As she continued on her slow course, the brief conversation from nearly a week back which had prompted this little adventure replayed in her mind.

Karai had been making her silent way down a hallway in the Foot headquarters, having just met with her father, when semi-familiar voices reached her ears. She had immediately tuned in, put slightly on edge by the cheerfully vindictive tone.

"...want another chance to play with him. You stopped me from having _fun_ last time, Masuda-san. Tasering is boring."

"I have all the information I need. Feel free to return on your own, for your 'fun'."

Laughter, with an ugly edge to it. "Oh, you _know_ I will..."

Karai paused, as two kunoichi rounded the corner. They came to a stop, both greeting her and bowing briefly to show respect.

"Oroku-san."

"Oroku-san."

Karai had met them, in an official welcome in this very building, just a few days back. They, along with a few other ninja, had just made the trip from Japan to New York, and were long term members of the Foot back home. Karai's father had wanted a few reliable, human ninja on the ground in New York, having decided that the Footbots were a double edged weapon, connected to the Kraang as they were. His interest in gaining access to someone who could reverse mutations had also been a major point in Bradford's favor in getting the go-ahead for kidnapping Donatello, as well. Her father was attempting to assert more control over a growing number of unpredictable factors in the city. As such, Karai wasn't surprised these ninja had been summoned. Nothing beat out having a truly skilled shinobi on your side, as the turtles themselves had demonstrated.

Karai also knew that, in the meet and greet, Shredder had made clear that the focus for the new transplants was the turtles.

She gave them a very brief, slight bow, as their superior. "Masuda-san, and...?"

"Harada, but if you wish to call me Jan, I would be pleased, Oroku-san."

Karai nodded slightly, but didn't reply directly to the invitation, keeping her face and voice pleasantly neutral. "How are you enjoying New York so far? See any of the green skinned residents yet?"

The two kunoichi exchanged looks.

Jan answered, smiling. "Oh, it's a fascinating city! Masuda-san is eager to engage in battle, but the opportunity has not presented itself yet."

Both the look the two kunoichi had exchanged and Harada Jan's phrasing put Karai on guard. Her smile hardened just slightly. "So, no sightings - or encounters - at all?"

Masuda, the more reserved kunoichi, was the one to reply this time. "We have been studying the environment of our enemy, acquainting ourselves with their potential strengths and weaknesses. When we do have the opportunity to engage in battle, it will be in our favor."

With that, she bowed, Jan quickly copying her.

"Thank you for the honorable conversation, Oroku-san."

Karai didn't bow this time, simply watching as the two kunoichi continued on their way, gazes averted, yet somehow vaguely smug. Her eyes narrowed. Honorable, indeed. They had flat out avoided her question!

She had silently fumed for the rest of the day, turning things over in her mind. And she always came to the same conclusion: they _had_ seen a turtle, and his name was Donatello. His guards, also recent transplants, had probably allowed their entry. But that _didn't_ mean her father had given them the go-ahead. So they had cut the conversation short, because they didn't want to admit to anything.

Like _tasering_ Donatello for fun- or information, anyway. Karai doubted that he'd told them anything, given some of the shocks she'd personally seen the turtle take while fighting the Kraang.

She hoped his screeches had hurt their ears.

Ultimately, Karai had known better to bring it up to her father. There was a chance he might approve of the tasering, even if the recipient was tied down and helpless, if it was purportedly for information gathering purposes. Besides, Karai couldn't think of how to broach the subject in a way that wouldn't suggest she felt sympathy for their prisoner.

Oroku Saki had, over the years, worked hard to discourage Karai from those sort of feelings. He was very clear on it: emotions like sympathy were a hindrance to the ninja, unless you were using them against someone else.

Karai rolled her eyes once more, as she set to work on creating a pinhole in the the duct work.

_Clearly_ the lessons hadn't sunk in, because _here_ she was. Despite the fact that Donatello was an enemy, and had been raised by the man who took her own _mother_ from her...

Karai shook her head, disgusted with herself. She'd have a hell of a time explaining this one to her father, if he ever found out.

After a few minutes of nearly silent work, the pin hole was finished, and she she got began installing the spy camera she'd brought, which had been purchased earlier that week with allowance credit she converted to cash. After that was set, Karai pulled out her phone, and started up the accompanying app.

She sighed. It wasn't like tasering would even cause permanent damage, anyway. But who knew what that oddball kunoichi "Jan" had in mind on the next visit? Something about the woman made Karai want to punch her in the face, just on principle.

She pushed a few buttons, bringing the camera online. And there he was in miniature, on Karai's phone, sleeping on that stupid manacled table Bradford had rigged up. Karai worked with the camera view a bit, and soon she had his entire body visible, as he lay prone. Donatello's face was drawn slightly, even in sleep. At least, she presumed he was asleep, since it was half past two in the morning. She didn't let her gaze linger on the image.

Karai started gathering up her tools, still careful to remain as silent as possible, and began the slow, inch by inch journey back to the land of free movement.

It was stupid. She wasn't going to pretend otherwise. But despite all the reasons she shouldn't be doing this, Karai already felt better. With a glance at her phone, she'd know if anyone was doing something terrible to Donatello while he was helpless.

It just didn't sit right with her, his not being able to punch back.

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><p>AN: Hold onto your seats, ladies and gents, things are about to get bumpy. Looking forward to your comments on this chapter!<p> 


	6. Breaking

Author's Note: Hey guys, thanks for the AWESOME reviews last time! I really enjoy hearing your comments, and what you find interesting, and like/dislike!

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><p><strong>Chapter Six: Breaking<strong>

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><p>As usual, Donnie kept working when Rahzar, née Bradford, came to visit. The skeletal mutant generally didn't say much. Ever since that first day, their communication had been eerily business-like, conversation focused solely on supplies Donnie needed. Some days, Rahzar didn't say a thing, simply observing for short while.<p>

Today, the sound of the rolling chair being pulled over signaled a change. Donnie glanced sideways, to find Rahzar standing there, an open hand gesturing toward the chair, which had been placed between the two lab tables Donnie used for his faux retro-mutagen project.

"Have a seat, Donatello." As a ninja, Donnie didn't miss the fact that he was in a bad position, being blocked in by the two tables. He repressed a sigh. Not that it mattered. Anywhere in this lab left him in a 'bad position', and failing to do as Rahzar asked would get him exactly one thing right now: more hurt. At least Rahzar seemed ambivalent at the moment, neither happy or angry. That didn't make ignoring his instincts any easier, as Donnie limped toward a chair the wolf mutant held firmly in one hand, to sit down while his enemy towered above him.

Especially when Donnie already had a feeling where this conversation was about to go.

As soon as Donnie sat, Rahzar turned the chair fully toward himself, one hand just above Donnie's right shoulder, the other hand placed on a nearby lab table. Pinning him in.

Rahzar's eyes narrowed slightly, and his wolfish head tilted to the side a little, in a considering gesture. "Let's see...you're good at math, right? From what I understand, you're good at just about everything, some kind of genius. I mean, that's why you figured out retro-mutagen! So. I have a question for you." His eyes, laser points of focus, fixed on his. "How many days have you _been_ here, turtle?"

Donnie didn't miss the threat in his tone, the way his claws gripped the back of his chair slightly tighter. His impatience didn't change anything, though. All Donnie had was a bluff, the false promise that he could re-create retro-mutagen with the materials at hand.

Donatello crossed his arms, and brought the pointer of his left hand to his chin, tapping thoughtfully. "Let's see, in another few hours, my stay will have come to fourteen days in total, so...two weeks exactly, or one fortnight." He stopped tapping, keeping his eyes wide, and guileless. "Does that sound correct?"

Rahzar looked off to the side, face turning sour. He scowled, letting out a sharp, wordless noise of frustration. He ground out a bitter sounding comment, under his breath. "I can't believe it, Xever was right." Then he leaned forward, bringing himself face to face with Donnie again. The look in his eyes had turned ugly.

Right at that moment, Fishface himself was ushered into the lab. Donnie took the opportunity to glance away, and avoid Rahzar's eyes. Not that it mattered. A ball of lead had settled in Donnie's stomach, and the adrenaline was kicking in.

Fishface was playing with one of his butterfly knives, flicking it open and closed again. His eyes were directly on Donnie. "So, I see you started without me, Bradford."

Rahzar didn't bother to turn around, talking over his shoulder instead. He sounded disgusted. "You were right. I _see_ it now."

"You must not blame yourself. I am skilled at reading deception. It is something invaluable to those in the criminal word." Fishface's eyes were still on Donnie, narrow and calculating.

Rahzar, as if in response to Fishface's comments, had started to growl. It was a low, almost inaudible noise. It set Donatello's every nerve on edge. Despite every effort, his heart was already racing. Rahzar locked eyes with him for an instant, then stood upright abruptly. The growling stopped.

"You know what? _You_ deal with him. I might tear him to _pieces_ right now, otherwise."

Donnie swallowed, throat suddenly parched, and silently observed as Rahzar walked off a short ways, giving Fishface space to move in. He kept playing with the butterfly knife.

"You know, I had a talk, made sure you wouldn't get any more visitors. For a week, your sleep has improved. Yes?"

Donnie nodded. It was true; a week had passed without any night-time visitors.

"So. You have all the materials you need. You have the formula- you have made this retro-mutagen _before_, after all. A Footbot has recorded its effect on that human, the father of your red headed friend. All that is needed now is to re-create what you did before." Fishface took a step forward. "In this pretty, well lit, professional facility, provided generously by Master Shredder. This is state of the art. Surely much better than whatever you had to work with in your disgusting, underground, _rat_ infested, smelling _hole_ you call a _home_. Yes?"

Fishface's calm voice had slowly escalated, anger seeping in as he went on. Donnie nodded again. He knew better than to comment, despite his ugly words, obviously aimed at Master Splinter.

"So, my question is this." The butterfly knife whipped in close, and came to a stop, with the flat of the blade pressed against Donnie's cheek. "_Why_," the word held pure venom, "am I still a _mutant_?"

"Xever." Donnie's eyes darted back and forth between the other mutant's. The only way forward was to bluff, and _keep_ bluffing, for as long as he could. Donnie narrowed his eyes, and tried to lean back slightly, to move away from the knife. Fishface allowed it, eyes following his carefully.

"You're right. This laboratory is excellent. It's miles ahead of what I have in the lair." He cursed himself an instant later for calling it that; using words only his family knew showed just how unbalanced Fishface had him. He pushed on. "But even with a known formula, it takes time to synthesize retro-mutagen. That time table can't be rushed, unless you'd like to accidentally force me to start over entirely, of course. I _don't_ think that's your goal, right?"

In the background, Rahzar snorted loudly. "He's got gall, I'll give him that."

The blade came to rest at the top of Donnie's plastron, making him flinch slightly at the sudden contact. "Yes. And he is a _liar_!"

With a swipe too quick to avoid, Fishface cut into Donnie's plastron, whipping the knife around for another strike. Donnie cried out, even as he caught Fishface by the wrist by instinct as the second strike came in.

Donnie kicked himself backward with his good leg, causing the rolling chair to flip back. Using his backward momentum, and thanks to the forward thrust of Fishface's attack, Donnie managed to throw the other mutant behind him, sending him into a sprawl between the two lab tables.

Then Rahzar was on top of Donatello, pinning him down, and the sheer strength of the other mutant made defending himself impossible.

The wolf mutant started shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. There wasn't any finesse behind it, no expertise. After a few seconds, which was already enough to leave Donatello unable to tell up from down, Rahzar picked Donnie up entirely, bellowing in fury, and flung him across the room. Donnie crashed, sideways, into the far wall, opposite to the double doors, landing in a heap on the floor. There was a dent in the wall where his shell had made contact.

Donatello, already dazed and in pain, could do nothing as Rahzar leaped after him, and a moment later the wolf mutant was on top of him again, punching him once, twice, three times in the gut. His fist left grooves, nearly as deep as Fishface's initial swipe with the butterfly knife, in his plastron. Rahzar stood over him, breathing heavily, obviously still infuriated, his claw-like hands clenching and un-clenching at his sides.

Donatello, flat on the ground, wheezed as best he could, desperate to draw in breath as his shocked abdominal muscles gradually unclenched. His leg burned from being knocked around so much, and the force behind Rahzar's blows had him seeing grey at the edges of his vision.

_Maybe he'll punch me one more time, and I'll pass out._

"Let me, my angry friend." Fishface was back on his feet.

"We're not friends."

"Of course. It is an expression only. Hold him for me."

Donatello couldn't help it. He fought back. Every ounce of him screamed to get away, to get out of there before anything worse could be done to him. It was illogical, of course, and only earned him a palm strike to the side of his face, which left his right ear ringing.

Several moments later, Rahzar was putting him in one of Raph's favorite submission holds. Rahzar's arms slid under Donatello's arm pits, and behind Donnie's shell, where Rahzar linked his hands together, keeping Donnie's arms behind him at an angel too weak to fight against, especially after the blows he'd taken to the stomach. Rahzar's legs, meanwhile, had snaked around, locking inside Donnie's knees and holding him prone, against Rahzar's body.

Fishface stood in front of them both. Donatello, breathing heavily, couldn't take his eyes away from the flipping, twirling, twisting motions of the butterfly knife as Fishface played with it.

"I think, when you leave here, _if_ you leave here, the world should know exactly what you are. Not that it's hard to miss."

Donatello scrambled to say something, _anything_, that would stop the fish mutant. "Xever...I _want_ to see you human again. I want to be done with this. I'm not _stalling_! One week...that's the time table! A _week_ from now!" His voice rose, growing panicked as Fishface stepped closer.

His face looked almost calm, as if channeling his anger into something malicious took the edge off. His metal legs bent, the hard knees clanking on the floor to either side of Donnie's body, straddling him, without actually making contact, as he leaned in close.

"S-stop...stop!"

But he didn't. The butterfly knife whipped out, and Fishface started carving into Donnie's plastron. The strokes were firm and clean, but they cut deep.

"Aaaaggh...aAAggaaah! Nnngaa-AAH!" Donnie screamed, head thrashing back and forth, tears streaming down his face. Fishface seemed to have a surgeon's precision, as each stroke went just deep enough to draw blood every time.

Through the pain, Donnie realized that Fishface was writing something, carving it into his chest. Some logical corner of his mind was even curious what would be gouged into his plastron for months, maybe even years, before it finally faded.

But really, it didn't matter _what_ was being carved into his chest. What mattered was that someone was doing this to him at all.

During the last two weeks, Donnie had felt terror several times. He'd felt agony, when Rahzar had first cut into his leg. He had felt humiliation, and fury. But right now, something was crumbling inside him, with every swipe of Xever's blade.

He'd _never_ broken down, never lost it completely. But as Xever continued his sadistic work, that last barrier finally yielded, and Donatello melted down, the pain induced tears replaced by wracking sobs.

He felt abandoned. However irrational it might be, it was there. The others had failed, after two weeks, to find him. Donnie was still in this hell, still sleeping on a bed of steel, with manacles holding him down.

He still had to go to the corner of the room, where a bucket had been placed, to do his business in full sight of the guards. He still had to deal with the fact that the longer he remained here, the more likely it became that his leg would suffer irreparable damage, since the Foot's surgeon had hardly done more than make sure he could function without the wound tearing back open, and dosed his food with antibiotics.

As the smell of his own blood assaulted his nose, Donnie continued to sob, in between the involuntary screams Xever's swiping blade elicited, and that rational part of his brain, the part that was very much in the minority, quietly tisked at him as he yelled out, over and over, for them to stop, _please_ _stop_, _STOP...!_

Finally, Xever did stop, squinting critically down at his handiwork. He swiped the butterfly knife against Donnie's mask tails, perfunctorily cleaning the blade, and whipped it out of sight, back to its holster.

"Finished." He stepped back, looking coldly satisfied, eyes on Donnie's chest. "What do you think, Bradford?"

Donnie collapsed back, arms completely numb, as Rahzar released the hold, and unwound his legs from Donnie's, grunting slightly. Holding Donatello still for the duration of Fishface's handiwork had been an effort, even for the powerful mutant.

Donatello stared up, through a haze of pain, still sobbing, seemingly unable to stop, as both Rahzar and Fishface stared down at him, at his chest. He wanted to look away, wanted to rest his battered head back on the floor, close his eyes.

But fear held him, so Donnie stared, as the people he was beginning to loath more than even the Shredder had a conversation above him.

"Not very creative, but fitting. It would be great if the blood running down was permanent, though."

Xever pursed his fishy lips. "It _could_ stain."

"True, that's something." Rahzar crossed his arms.

Donnie found himself thinking back to that first night, two weeks back, and a weak chuckle escaped him. He was going insane, laughing at the thought of having a permanent blood stain down his front with _who knows what _carved into his body, like some kind of self-harming, emo _fashion_ statement!

Another weak laugh forced its way out of Donnie's mouth.

Suddenly not caring, Donnie let himself go limp, lying flat on the floor, and stared up into the harsh lighting, wishing he could disappear into it. His pupils contracted, reacting to the bright light, and Fishface and Rahzar became shadowed, out of focus silhouettes in the background.

_At least I'm not sobbing anymore._

His chest was on fire with pain, but worse than that was something beyond the physical, a wound deep within, as his mind tried to wrestle with what was happening to him. As it tried, and failed, to comprehend how someone could hold another person down, and carve words into their chest, then have a light hearted conversation as they bled and sobbed in front of them.

Donatello didn't want to share the same air as people like Xever or Bradford or Shredder.

His face curled into a mockery of a smile, the muscles pulling the corners of his mouth up, as he finally closed his eyes. A fresh set of tears, silent this time, dripped down his cheek to the floor.

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><p>AN: Cliffhanger! *raises hands* Guilty as charged. That said, the next chapter will be up within 24 hours. Please take the time to comment, I really enjoy and appreciate your reviews guys!<p> 


	7. Broken

_Author's Note: Thank you SO much for your reviews!_

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><p><em>Previous chapter: <em>

_At least I'm not sobbing anymore._

His chest was on fire with pain, but worse than that was something beyond the physical, a wound deep within, as his mind tried to wrestle with what was happening to him. As it tried, and failed, to comprehend how someone could hold another person down, and carve words into their chest, then have a light hearted conversation as they bled and sobbed in front of them.

Donatello didn't want to share the same air as people like Xever or Bradford or Shredder.

His face curled into a mockery of a smile, the muscles pulling the corners of his mouth up, as he finally closed his eyes. A fresh set of tears, silent this time, dripped down his cheek to the floor.

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven: Broken<strong>

"Feeling sorry for yourself, turtle?"

Donatello didn't have the energy to flinch. That seemed to annoy Rahzar, because a moment later a foot was pressed to his shoulder. "Well?"

Donnie looked up, feeling hollow, raw. "How would _you_ feel?" His voice was hoarse, the words coming out weak.

Rahzar snorted again. "I would never be in this mess in the _first_ place." He leaned forward, and unceremoniously grabbed Donatello by the forearm, dragging him along as he strode toward the lab tables. Donnie, experiencing a moment of surreal detachment, didn't resist, simply watching as Rahzar came to a stop, then bent to set the rolling chair upright again.

Then Rahzar's grip shifted to his neck, cutting off his air, and Donnie's eyes went wide, in a rush of adrenaline fueled panic. Rahzar lifted him up, Donnie's feet dangling as Rahzar's hand dug into his windpipe. Then he was being pushed into the chair.

"Geh...hhhk...!" Rahzar's grip shifted, loosening, giving Donnie just enough space to strain his way through a single breathe of air, heart beating like a bird's. Rahzar pressed the chair back, up against a lab table, and pressed in closer himself, standing in a way that trapped Donnie's knees between his own.

Finally, he let go of his neck entirely, putting his hands on Donatello's shoulders, pressing him further back into the chair. Rahzar watched, almost patient, as Donnie rasped in and out, desperately taking in oxygen.

As Donnie gasped for air, he found himself bitterly wondering who it would hurt more if he could manage a kick to Rahzar's groin. His leg, or Rahzar's groin? Not that it mattered, because they both knew he couldn't at the moment.

"You might like to know that Xever didn't cut the word 'liar' into you just now. But if you tell him another story, I'll be _happy_ to watch him add to his work."

Donnie didn't say anything, panic flaring again.

_I bet you would._

Donnie probably would've slid all the way to the ground if it wasn't for Rahzar keeping him in place. He blinked, everything slightly out of focus, vaguely aware that he was going into shock. His gaze dropped down; it took too much effort to look all the way up at Rahzar's malicious face. Everything was starting to feel strangely numb. He blinked a few times more, slowly, and wished he could just pass out.

There was nothing to say, nothing he _could_ say. He couldn't actually _make_ the retro-mutagen, and the only thing that could change that was...

"...up!" Someone had slapped him.

Donnie gasped lightly, aware that his entire body was trembling, and flinched as Fishface's hand landed another blow, twisting his head to the side. It felt like he'd just come up from being underwater; everything was too loud, too bright, the pain in his wounds flaring.

"Wake up. Wake _up_!" With a start, Donatello realized he must've been out for a few moments. His eyes locked with Fishface's, who was the one leaning in, while Razhar still kept him pinned with his legs, towering up above.

Fishface sounded furious again. "What do you mean, you _can't_?"

Donnie's eyes went wide. What...? What had he _done_? Had he _mumbled_ something? No..._nononono_!

"I-I-I...wha...?" Xever's hands went around his neck, squeezing the word out of existence.

"No! _No_ more lies! You said you can't. What do you _mean_, turtle? Why. _Can't_. You?!" He squeezed for a few seconds longer, enough for Donnie to feel a now familiar panic set in at being unable to breathe. Then Fishface let go, eyes narrowed to pin points of concentration.

Donnie shook his head, unable to stop the frantic motion, breathing in gasps of air, eyes wide, panicked. He _couldn't_ say anything. If he did, it would just mean more pain for telling lies! And if he told the _truth_...he just couldn't! He could _never!_

They gave him a little time. Then Fishface glanced to Rahzar, catching his eye, and stepped back.

"Let's make this simple, Donatello. Remember that wheelchair I mentioned? You'll be needing one starting _now_ if you don't answer Xever's question." One of Rahzar's hands unclenched from the chair, flexing into a knife-hand, the tips of his claws resting on Donnie's thigh, just above his knee pad. He started pressing, the claw tips breaking Donnie's skin.

And then he kept going, slowly penetrating deeper.

Something snapped inside Donatello. It was too much. Too much pain. Too much to think of life without his legs. Too much to imagine the humiliation that, even if he ever _was_ rescued, his brothers would have to care for him as an invalid for the rest of his life.

"I CAN'T! I c-can't, without..." he was sobbing, hiccuping, but Rahzar had stopped, though his claws still rested in the newly created stab wounds, still shallow, but still easily deepened by the mutant hell-bent on being a human again.

"...w-without...haahh...haahh...an ingredient! In my l-lab." Donatello breathed in a shuddering, involuntary sob of a breath. He closed his eyes, mouth clenched into a line of misery.

"Something we can't provide you?" That was Xever's voice, coldly probing.

"N-no. O-only...in my lab." Donnie's voice broke. He couldn't look at them any more. He had never felt so defeated, so weak. He shuddered through another breath, in and out, and tried to think.

"P-please. L-let me _go_. I'll make the retro-mutagen for you, I _swear_ to you. Th-think about it. You're m-more _dangerous_ this way." He finally opened his eyes, desperation permeating him, tears running freely.

Rahzar and Fishface exchanged another glance. Rahzar answered. "We would just _love_ to believe you, but...I don't think so, turtle." He leaned forward. "So, we _could_ force you to tell us where your precious lair is..."

Donnie's heart clenched painfully. He didn't think he'd ever even _hint_ that he needed April's blood, yet here he was, so close to telling them the truth. The thought of bringing the Foot down on his family, the _Shredder_ in the lair...

"No. We don't want to risk making him useless before he can make us _human_ again." Fishface crossed his arms, looking thoughtful, and Donnie stared up, blinking away the tears that seemed never ending.

Fishface's eyes narrowed, locked onto his. "Do they know? Your brothers. Could they _bring_ this ingredient?"

Donnie must've taken too long to answer, because Rahzar's claws shifted slightly, and for a moment Donatello was seeing grey at the edge of his vision, another scream tearing out of him.

"Y-YES! Y-yes." He gasped, repeated gulps of air, as the pain radiated up from his abused leg. He closed his eyes again. The light overhead was suddenly so bright, like a super nova.

His voice dropped to a whisper, his voice failing completely. "_T-they know_."

Apparently Fishface was satisfied. "Excellent."

Then, they were both pulling away, talking to each other about some plan Xever had, and Donnie was left to slowly slide off the chair, and to the ground.

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><p>.<p>

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AN: Comments on the previous chapter were very interesting, to see what you anticipated and enjoyed. Thanks for reading, and I hope you'll take time to comment again! Until next time!


	8. Hurting

Author's Note: Not gonna lie. This chapter was emotional for me to write. :\ Also, I really, really appreciate your reviews from last chapter, thanks so much for the feedback, guys.

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><p><strong>Chapter Eight: Hurting<strong>

Despite being the most Zen of his brothers, Michelangelo still worried deeply about Donatello. He had nightmares about his sciency brother, locked in a lab that looked a lot like Donnie's normal lab, except instead of tinkering on something, Donnie would be in Mutagen Man's container, trapped in the goop, trying to get out. Or, he'd be on the ground, and Rahzar would be standing over him, claws dripping with something...bad.

It had been over two weeks, and nothing. No real leads, no hint of where he was really being held. They'd broken into over thirty potential locations in that time. Of _course_ Mikey was worried. Like the others, he was emotionally exhausted.

To take his mind off things, as he knew he needed to, Michelangelo was surfing the Internet, ear-buds plugged into Donnie's laptop as he listened to some of his favorite tunes. At the moment, he was on his old Facebook page. After the let down with the creep who now held his brother hostage, it had lost some of its charm, but Mikey still updated it sometimes. Nothing _Rahzar_ did was going to stop him from enjoying life!

Without thinking much about it, Mikey clicked on a video someone had shared to his account. As it started playing, it puzzled him at first. It was some kind of home video, the camera angle was weird, everything was kinda wobbly. He moved the mouse to maximize the message below the video, and read a description...

Then a familiar scream knifed its way into Michelangelo's heart. The camera came into better focus, and there was blood, and as the scream died, it was replaced by rasping gasps of air, followed by sobbing, shuddered exhalations. Someone laughed, the sound the most evil thing Mikey had ever heard.

The camera panned up, over a bloodied plastron, to land on a familiar face contorted in emotional and physical agony. Another scream tore into Mikey, as a human hand held something to Donnie's face, and they were _electrocuting_ him with something...

And then Mikey was tearing the ear buds out, throwing them from himself as if they burned, and he was screaming _himself_, standing up, knocking the laptop backward onto the couch.

Mikey kept screaming, tears running down his face, hands on either side of his head, pressing, as if he could make what he'd seen and heard go away.

"DONNIEEEE! DONNIEEEE! DONNIEEEE!" Suddenly strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, and Splinter was there, holding Michelangelo, shushing him, hugging him.

Michelangelo grasped onto his father, feeling like someone drowning just then, as tears ran down his face, gasping for breath.

"Donnie, D-Donnie...M-Master Splinter..." He broke down into sobs, unable to continue. It was too ugly. His brother was being tortured. Tortured, and they were _laughing_ at him, and they'd carved the word _freak_ into his chest, and Donnie was sobbing and crying, while they just _stood_ there, using that electro-gadget from the movies, zapping him over and over...making his brother writhe and _scream_...

Everyone had shown up. Raph stood near Mikey and Splinter, wide eyed, while Leo was slowly making his way toward the laptop, about to tip it back up.

"NOOO!" Mikey broke away from Splinter and lunged forward, but Leo picked it up anyway. "Leo, NO!" Mikey made as if to take the laptop.

Leo jumped back with it, face closed off, but fear in his eyes. He spoke, voice intense, clipped. "What did you see, Mikey?"

Mikey just stared back, mouth open, tears still in his eyes. Raphael, wide eyed and afraid, slowly reached out to touch Mikey on the shoulder.

Michelangelo turned, still distraught, to look at Raph with wide eyes, as if his stronger brother might somehow make this all stop.

Raphael hesitated. "Donnie..." his voice quavered with fear, "Is he..." He stopped, and tilted his head slightly, eyes questioning, and scared.

Leo spoke again, voice higher, with a panicked edge. His hands clenched the laptop, which was pressed to his chest. "Mikey, what did you _see_? Is Donnie...?!"

Mikey realized what they were too afraid to say, and shook his head. The pain was so sharp, as if someone had reached inside his chest, and just started _crushing_ his heart, and the images and sounds wouldn't stop replaying...

"Dude, he's n-not dead..."

After answering Leo, Mikey turned back into Splinter's embrace, closing his eyes, tears streaming down his face. Raphael stepped forward, gently folding his arms around Mikey from the side, surrounding him with family.

Raphael silently looked over to Leo, then up at Splinter, eyes wide and imploring, face a mask of misery and worry.

What had Michelangelo _seen_?

Not knowing was a form of torture in and of itself, as Mikey, usually the most happy go lucky brother, continued to sob away.

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><p>In the end, Leo had taken the laptop and locked himself away in Donnie's lab with it. Raph hadn't been able to stop him in time, beating at the door for several minutes, screaming at him to let him in, that he had a right to see that video too, to know whose heads to break once they'd rescued Donnie.<p>

Mikey had sat on the couch, and Splinter remained with him, doing nothing to stop Raphael or Leo. When Raph finally gave up and came to sit with them on the couch, Splinter stayed a few minutes longer, then finally stood, excusing himself to meditate.

Michelangelo, finally calmer again, quietly spoke after Splinter had left the room.

"Raph, we have to rescue Donnie. Like..._now_. Tonight." Mikey didn't look at Raph when he spoke. Instead, he stared at the far wall of the lair, sitting crouched forward, muscles taunt, one leg bouncing up and down in a nervous movement.

Raphael shrugged, wishing harder than he ever had for anything in his life, that he could just go out and bring Donnie back. He was terrified of what Mikey had seen in that video, and was deeply upset that his fun loving brother, when doing something Mikey thought was safe, that didn't require the hard shell they could all erect when needed, had stumbled into watching the _torture of_...

Raphael's mind stopped at the thought. He clenched his jaw, bowing his head slightly in a moment of silent agony. He breathed in a silent, quavering lungful of air, and let it out again.

Raphael reached over, and put a hand on his brother's shell.

"We'll get him _back_, Mikey." _I swear to you, Donnie. I __**swear**__._

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><p>When April arrived at the lair nearly two hours later, Leo still hadn't emerged from Donatello's lab. Raphael had gone to the kitchen, taking up the role of cook, and that's where she found both him and Michelangelo. Raphael stood at the stove, stirring something in a large saucepan, while Mikey sat morosely at the kitchen table, kicking his feet, his chin resting on his folded forearms.<p>

"Hey guys...where's Leo?"

Mikey didn't look up to greet her. "Hey April."

Raphael answered the question, turning halfway to briefly meet her eyes. "The lab."

April nodded, a little surprised, and rested a hand on the kitchen table, too restless to join Mikey in sitting. "So...what's going on? What's the plan?"

Both brothers stared at her, Raphael pausing in what he was doing completely. "What do you mean?"

"Leo texted me saying there had been an update, so I came as fast as I could...?" April swallowed, catching on that something serious had happened, had _broken_, since her last visit. They had all been worried, distraught about Donnie, but this was new. Mikey was off, like a beach ball someone had stuck a needle in, and squeezed until it was half flat, and Raph...why was _Raphael_ cooking?

April nearly jumped out of her skin when Leo's voice came from the kitchen entrance.

"April. Thanks for coming."

The energy in the room changed immediately. It was a like a state of emergency, and all three turtles were on high alert. Their eyes weren't white, but the feeling was there, the intensity of a battle-ready situation in the air.

April glanced around. Despite the energy, Raphael was calmly pouring the soup into mugs. Mikey had gone still. Leo came to stand behind one of the chairs at the kitchen table, and made a small gesture toward April. "Please, join us. There has been a development."

April noticed that, in a bizarre contrast to his calm tone, that Leonardo's eyes were red, as if he'd been crying.

Leo's eyes locked with Mikey's for a second, but then broke away. If possible, Leo's face closed off further, and Mikey's wide blue eyes dropped to look at the table. Mikey looked like a kicked puppy dog, lower lip trembling slightly.

April sat, thinking it might be a good idea, a sinking feeling in her stomach. A moment later Raphael came over with mugs of soup for them all, and sat down next to her.

Leo found himself focusing on April's hands, as they fidgeted on the table across from him. So small, petite...not so different from the hands of that girl in the video. He forced himself to glance away, and thanked Raphael for the soup.

They all took a few sips, the gentle flavor of canned chicken noodle soup a welcome comfort.

"The Foot sent a message. They know Donatello can't finish the retro-mutagen without a missing ingredient in his lab."

Raphael spoke first, voice slightly raised. "Leo, I have a _right_..."

"The video is gone. I deleted it." Leo's tone was unbreachable; a granite fortress. He stared across the table at Raphael, eyes hard.

"Guys...? What video?" April looked between all three brothers, trying to understand the dynamic, and why the conversation had shifted when such an important announcement had been made about Donnie.

Leo's eyes shifted to her, all the cold focus still there, like a wall pushing her back. "The Foot sent a video. To give us incentive to comply. They want the missing ingredient delivered to them, by midnight tomorrow night."

April's eyes widened in shock. "A video of...Donnie?" Then her brain kicked in, the wheels turning. "Leo. You deleted it? Why? Did you see the walls, the lighting? Anything that could help us pinpoint his location?" She frowned, looking at the blue banded turtle imploringly. "Tell me you didn't _really_ delete it..."

Leo's voice turned to ice. "It's gone. And I know you know computers better than me, April, but if you find a way to locate the video, or undelete it, I will _never forgive you_."

He leaned forward as he spoke, pure menace in his voice, and the room fell completely silent. April sat, hands clenched on the table, caught by Leonardo's harsh stare. His eyes held something dark and angry.

April didn't know why, but she felt blood rush to her face, and tears sprang to her eyes. She faltered, and dropped her gaze to the table top, shame washing over her.

"Bro..." Mikey's soft voice broke through the tense atmosphere. He put a hand over Leo's, squeezing just slightly. Leo finally stopped glaring at April, glancing down at Michelangelo's hand on his own, then away, the cold expression finally cracking slightly to show something more vulnerable underneath, something hurting.

Leonardo sighed gently, one brow quirked down in chagrin. "April...I'm sorry. That was out of line." His gaze went to the table top, and the others could tell he was looking through it, into something only in his mind's eye.

"I...studied the video. There were no direct lights shown. It was definitely a laboratory. Metal surfaces. I got a glance of a tile floor, briefly. There were no numbers, nothing I could see that stood out. I took a screencap of the tile floor, just in case. You can have a look later if you want, April."

Leo's eyes inched up, focusing again on April's hands. Unconsciously, his own hands clenched as the ugliest part of that video flashed in front of his mind's eye.

He'd done _absolutely_ the right thing in deleting it. _No_ one would know about what they'd done to his brother, not if he could help it. Not Raphael, not Splinter...definitely _not_ April. Leonardo was grateful that Mikey had only seen the first thirty seconds or so.

"Leo, if you think it's the right thing to do, I will _gladly_ give you my blood. I don't know..." April paused, lower lip wobbling slightly, as she glanced down at Leo's clenched fists. She bit her lip, forcing herself back under control again. "...what _happened_ in that video, but I'm so sorry you had to watch it. And I...will do _anything_ to help get him back."

Slowly, Leo unclenched his hands, looking down at them as he flattened his palms against the table. Then he looked up, voice calm again. "That's not necessary. We'll give them something, but it won't be your blood. But this _is_ our chance to get Donnie back."

Leonardo brought his hands up, leaning forward with his elbows resting on the table, and steepled his fingertips together.

"Here's the plan."

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><p>AN: Leo has a plan! FINALLY! Augh! lol...thanks so much for reading! I'd really love to hear your commentsreactions.


	9. Humiliation

Author's Note: Hey guys. Things take a dark turn in this chapter. This is where I feel the mature rating really kicks in. **If you are a child, please *please* do not continue reading this, I'm begging you here. ** To those who reviewed last chapter, thank you so much for your thoughtful, amazing comments. They really touched me.

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><p><strong>Chapter Nine: Humiliation<strong>

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><p>Well so much for <em>that<em> brilliant idea!

Karai jumped from rooftop to rooftop, infuriated, trying to blow off steam. What good was video surveillance when you couldn't _do_ anything about what you saw?

Not that she'd known what had happened to Donatello, until after. Karai had relaxed her surveillance after a day or two, only checking up on her phone once or twice each night, and rarely during the day at all. It would be hard to explain if someone happened to notice his image on her phone, so she hadn't been keen to make it a habitually accessed app. Habits were dangerous to form; it made you prone to thoughtless mistakes.

So when Karai pulled up the app on her phone around ten that evening, she had gotten a shock.

Donatello had gone from having a bandaged leg, to having a bandaged _everything_. What skin was left to see, was bruised. Red dotted a new swath of medical gauze, which covered his entire upper chest, along with a second area on his lower abdomen. Donatello's leg, the one that had been injured by Bradford when he first became their prisoner, now sported another wound on the thigh, where three distinct blotches of red had come through the medical gauze there. His other leg looked pretty good by comparison, if you didn't count the bruise which ran practically its entire length.

It looked like someone had slammed him into a wall, repeatedly, then used him as a pin cushion.

The infuriating thing about it was...it _had_ to have been Bradford and Xever. That was the only explanation for why he'd been patched up so early in the night after the assault. And that meant there probably wasn't one thing in _hell_ Karai could've done to stop it. They would've kicked her out, and been within their rights to do so, despite her place in the clan.

Donatello wasn't her prisoner, after all.

Karai executed a particularly long leap, twisting through the air into a forward somersault as she dropped from a higher roof to a lower one. She flowed into a front roll as she landed, following up with a few handsprings to take the edge off her momentum, before finally coming to a complete halt.

She bent forward, allowing her hands to rest on her knees for a few moments as she caught her breath. Karai scowled down at the rough asphalt of the roof's flat surface, as her mind continued to turn over the image she'd seen in her phone a short while before, unable to shake it.

It was so _stupid_! How did they expect him to do anything for them, if they beat his brains out first! Or, maybe Donatello was the stupid one, and had been pretending to cooperate, stringing them along with busy work?

She had _warned_ him, hadn't she?

Karai lunged forward again, continuing her sprint between rooftops, unsheathing her katana as she ran. Stopping a few rooftops further down, she moved fluidly into a kata, working through the familiar movements with angry slashes and jabs.

She paused as a sudden urge to check on Donatello in person struck her, but she pushed it away. That would look weird. She couldn't show up in the middle of the night, just to go stare at their prisoner. And it was a twenty minute drive to get there even in the middle of the night, anyway.

Karai compromised with herself by pulling out her phone again, and bringing up the app. There he was, still asleep- or, more likely, passed out. No one was there with him, or at least they weren't in his space.

Karai's hand faltered, and she forced herself to pocket the phone again. She sighed, bowing her head, and closed her eyes in resignation.

The truth was, she hadn't been there, and for all she really knew, she _could've_ done something for the brainiac.

She was going to have to keep a closer eye.

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><p>When they came to unshackle him the next morning, Donnie didn't try to get up.<p>

He didn't move at all, except to pull his arms in closer to his body, for warmth. When the doctor from the night before showed up again, and took his vitals to be sure he wasn't getting a fever or an infection, Donnie hardly reacted.

Being moved was less easy to ignore, especially when the doctor declared that Donatello needed a shower, and the guards came over, lifting him up. Before Donnie had fully absorbed what was happening, he was being carried out of the room, while the doctor led the way.

They ended up in a bathroom with a full shower, as the building apparently had at least one. One of the guards stood in the shower door, silently observing, after Donnie was set down, with a wash cloth and soap nearby.

The doctor commented to him, from a little further off. "This is your chance, mutant. Get the grime off."

As the guard leaned in to turn on the tap, the doctor commented again, talking to the guard. "Be sure it's warm. I don't want him going into shock."

Slowly and painfully, Donnie picked up the shower head, which dangled in front of him, and awkwardly maneuvered it to wet down the washcloth, and lather it up with soap. Then he did the only thing he could do, and pretended the guard wasn't standing right there.

When it came time to clean his private areas, Donnie turned slightly away, blocking the guard's view as best he could. Not that it really mattered. Silent tears streamed down his face, as he cleaned away the dried urine.

They'd forced him to expose himself last night.

"_Do it, or I will cut my way __**into**__ you to have a look."_

Jan had been there. She'd been the ring leader. She'd started cutting into his plastron again, until he couldn't stand it any more.

"_Give us a show, freak..." A feral grin, and glinting, excited eyes._

Donatello picked the shower head up again, gently rinsing his private parts down after lathering up. He slipped himself back up and in, under the protection of his plastron, and shifted to wash the rest of his body down as best he could. Tears continued to drip silently down his cheeks, as he pulled off his bandanna, to lather it up.

Once he'd broken down and exposed himself, she'd _grabbed_ him, down there. They'd all had something to say about how it looked. The color, the shape. Then Jan had used the taser, to get an idea about what it would look like if he was...if he had been...

Donnie's cheeks colored in the deepest shame, as he wrung out the bandanna.

She'd used the taser too much. He'd ended up wetting himself. They'd laughed at that too.

They had laughed at how he looked, guffawing at what it would be like to have sex with him, speculating about what girl would ever want such a freak. Then they'd laughed when he had sullied himself. The tasering had made it so he couldn't pull himself back in, and when they'd left, he was still exposed, stinking and in pain. It had taken nearly twenty minutes until enough control had returned to hide himself away again.

When Donatello finished tying the bandanna back around his head, the guard leaned forward and hefted him up to a standing position. At some point, the doctor had come over, and now he reached over to grab the shower head.

"Put your hands on the wall."

The doctor started rinsing down his shell, taking another washcloth, and rubbing it down perfunctorily. He also wiped down the back of his head and neck, apparently thinking Donnie might have missed that spot. After a minute or so, he stopped, and turned off the tap. The other guard stepped in, taking the doctor's place, and Donatello was carried a short ways out of the shower stall.

Then the doctor stepped in again, while the guards held Donnie upright, and quickly toweled him down, careful about the various open wounds. Several were bleeding, leaving red marks on the white towel, which was tossed to the floor a few moments later.

After that, Donatello was carried back to the lab, where the doctor dressed his wounds for the second time in twelve hours. Donnie noticed the smell of rubbing alcohol; the lab table which served as his bed had been disinfected during his absence.

Once the doctor was done making sure he'd taken his antibiotics, along with a few bites of the food that kept them down, Donnie was finally left alone again, or as alone as he ever got.

He curled up on his side, on the cold lab table, facing away from the guards, and tried to forget.

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><p>AN: Would really appreciate your feedback on this, guys. And I know it might sound crazy, but I honestly feel TERRIBLE about what's happening to Donnie. *pats Donnie on the back* We'll get through this, dude, I promise.<p> 


	10. Thwarted

Author's Note: I really appreciate the feedback on the last chapter, guys. Hope you enjoy this one. Thanks for reading!

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><p><strong>Chapter Ten: Thwarted<strong>

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><p>As the Foot's message had demanded, only one of the brothers waited on the designated rooftop, to hand over the missing ingredient for the creation of retro-mutagen. Leo stood at attention, eyes white, with the canister they had prepared earlier that day sitting in front of him on the roof.<p>

Raphael, Michelangelo, and even Splinter were there as well, all strategically placed on other rooftops. April and Casey would remain in contact by T-Phone down on the street, in the Shell Raiser, if a high speed chase became necessary.

Rahzar and Fishface were spotted, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, five minutes to midnight. They both came to a halt about fifteen paces away from Leo, as several Foot ninja fanned out behind them.

Rahzar greeted him in neutral tones. "Leonardo. Do you have what we requested?"

"Yes." Leo nodded to the metal container sitting half a dozen feet in front of him.

"Smart turtle. You've done your brother a favor."

Leo's eyes narrowed.

Rahzar nodded behind him, and a kunoichi, one of the few Leo had ever seen aside from Karai, stepped forward to pick up the vial. As she came closer, it seemed as if she was smirking at him, but a mask covered the bottom half of her face, making it difficult to be sure. Her hair was exposed, showcasing streaks of red running through the spiky black.

Leonardo noticed, with quiet dismay, that she had another container with her. She crouched and began unscrewing both containers, clearly meaning to transfer the liquid.

"I wouldn't do that. It's volatile."

The kunoichi glanced up, and this time he couldn't miss the darkly playful look in them. She spoke in a Japanese accent. "I know how to handle dangerous things." She raised an eyebrow, running her eyes briefly down and up his form.

As she began to pour the liquid from one container to the other, Leonardo recognized her.

And it was like a chain snapped. The thing holding him back; self control, logic, pragmatism; whatever it was that normally kept him rational, it was suddenly gone.

Leo hurtled forward, snarling, both katana extended, furious and hurting and outraged.

She was going to _pay_...ten times over, she would _pay_...!

Rahzar was there in an instant, blocking him. The kunoichi, obviously skilled in her own right, quickly retreated, finishing the transfer from one vial to the other, and began making her way across the rooftops. Leo, meanwhile, was forced to engage with Rahzar and Fishface, silently cursing himself.

The canister had been plan A, and that had been tossed aside, along with the GPS tracker in it. If the others couldn't track that kunoichi _back_...

Leo didn't have time to think about it, as both Rahzar and Fishface pressed forward.

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><p>They lost her in the mall. Splinter had had to physically restrain Mikey, who had been about to throw caution to the wind, and follow anyway.<p>

"They'll think I'm wearing a costume! It doesn't _matter_!"

Splinter had known the mall included police, armed with guns. He hadn't let go.

April had been the last one to return to the lair, well after sunrise, head down and arms folded around herself. She and Casey, being the only humans, had been able to go in after the kunoichi, but at least a minute or so had passed before they had reached the mall. April shook her head sadly, having already texted ahead before coming over.

"It's a twenty-four hour mall. They must have chosen the location with it in mind. It's huge."

Raphael was the first to reply.

"I cannot _believe_ this!" He stalked back and forth, burning through what had to be the last dregs of adrenaline, given the hour. "Leo, what happened out there? Mr. _Leader_, Mr. _Plan_, why did you attack?!"

Leo looked off to the side, head bowed. "I lost my cool. I'm not...excusing it." He shook his head at himself, as Raph continued to pace, like something caged. The others remained quiet, fatigued and not having anything positive to say.

Raphael bit his lip, hands going to his head, then thrust both hands out in a furious gesture. "And what _happens_ when they find out it's _fake_? What happens to Donnie _then_?! Leo!"

Leonardo finally met Raphael's angry gaze, mouth drawn into a line. "What do _think_ would happen if we gave them what they need, Raph? You think they'll just hand Donnie _back_ to us? Shredder _hates_ us! Once he's done with him, we'll be lucky to get parts of him mailed to us in a _box_!"

"_Leo_!" April hugged herself tighter, eyes wide in shock, glaring at the blue banded ninja from where she sat on the couch. She bit her lip, trying not to cry.

Leo lowered his voice, chagrined. "I just mean that...the only way we'll get Donnie back is by _taking_ him back."

Raphael only got angrier, stepping into Leonardo's space, and pushed at him. "Yeah? And what we _did_ tonight _accomplished_ that, right?!" Raph pushed again, forcing Leo to take a step back. "_Maybe_ we could've trailed her, if you hadn't freaked out, and spooked them all! Think of _that, _genius!? Why the HELL did you attack, Leo?!"

"Raphael!" Splinter stood up, eyes flashing, and Raphael, arms trembling in fury, slowly backed down, then turned around abruptly, still glaring daggers.

Leo stood, not responding, fists clenched by his sides, head bowed, as Raphael went back to pacing.

A nearly silent sniffle escaped.

Raphael paused. He turned back around, as if against his will, to look at Leonardo again, with teeth clenched.

Leo gaze was still on the floor. Standing tears were in his eyes.

Raphael shook his head, feeling overwhelmed, not wanting to cry, not wanting to accept how the night had played out. He finally spoke, voice strangled sounding.

"I don't _believe_ this..."

Splinter reached a hand out to him, but Raphael ducked past it, breaking into a run, and disappeared into his bedroom.

After a few moments, Splinter slowly walked to Leo, and placed his hands on his shoulders. Leo looked up, eyes wet with tears. He spoke, voice a croak.

"She was in the video..."

He looked down at his feet again, and Splinter gently pulled him into a hug. Leo broke down further, shoulders shaking, sobs muffled by his father's chest.

Mikey, who sat on the couch by April, inched closer to her. She accepted his hug, crying too, while Casey stood between the two scenes, jaw clenched.

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><p>.<p>

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AN: Did I make Leo too wimpy? Be honest! :) Your feedback is sough and appreciated, as always. Sorry about how short this is- some of these sections I struggle on how to split up into chapters. Until next time!


	11. The Art of Denial

Author's Note: This is more of an interlude than a full chapter, but another update should be pretty quick. Thanks SO much for your comments last time around! It was very good to get feedback on how things went.

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><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: The Art of Denial<strong>

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><p>Donnie sat staring at the metal canister that had just been placed on the table in front of him.<p>

The color of the liquid, visible through a small section made of glass, was wrong. It wasn't April's blood.

His brothers had faked the Foot out.

Fishface stood nearby, eyes watchful. "How long until it is finished _now_?"

Donatello looked up at him. "Half a week to a week. Maybe a little longer."

Fishface tilted his head in a half nod, just a hint of anticipation showing through. "Fine." He turned for the double doors, disappearing through them a few moments later.

Donnie's gaze went back to the canister. He reached forward to pick it up, then unscrewed it. He took a careful sniff of the contents, which were a muddy brown color, with an oily sheen, and coughed a little, the movement pulling at the cuts in his plastron.

As if coughing had set off a chain reaction, he started to quietly laugh.

Fishface had taken his _word_ just now.

At some point over the last few days, Donatello had learned to lie. Or, perhaps he'd simply made peace with lying to the kind of scum these people were.

Or maybe the part of Donnie that _cared_ about lying, and that it was wrong, had finally shut down. Guilt was so close to other emotions...

For Donatello, yesterday had been like a French Impressionist painting; all blurred lines, muted colors. There had been no point to working, because everyone had known it was an exercise in fakery. So Donnie had slept most of the day away, and they had let him. He hadn't been good for anything else anyway, because every thought, every feeling, had been saturated with the experience he'd endured at the hands of Jan and the others. So he had simply given up, and tried to rest, to forget...to _not_ think at all.

Today, Donnie's body was stronger and his mind was clear again, but there was a danger lurking inside him- an emotional wound, deep and wide open. He was stepping carefully, because he'd couldn't put a salve, or stitch it or sooth it with a cold compress. He couldn't fix it at all. The best he could do was to ignore it.

When a trigger tried to make things surface – any reminder of their laughter, of his pain - Donnie instinctively shunted it away. Something about how extreme his emotions had been, how fundamentally different that experience was from anything else he'd gone through in his life, made pushing the bad thoughts away a surprisingly easy thing to do.

It was as if it had been a bad dream, something not quite real.

All in all, if he didn't count the pain from his leg and plastron, Donnie hardly felt bad at all, really, because he'd taken punches all his life, as a ninja. He was used to being bruised.

A tiny voice in the back of Donnie's mind, a voice that remembered a medical journal he'd read about trauma and how to deal with it, quietly warned that he was in shock, that the ability to shunt things aside was only temporary.

Donnie didn't pay attention.

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, as he studied the contents of the canister, tilting it slightly to make the liquid move. Donnie chuckled again, and shook his head.

His brothers had sent him diesel fuel.

_Thanks, guys._

In full sight of the guards, and not caring at all, since he already knew they didn't understand one _whit_ of what he was doing, Donnie started working.

One way or another, he'd be out of here in a week.

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><p>.<p>

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AN: :( This chapter makes me sad. I felt I needed to get this in before taking another step with the plot. What do you guys think?


	12. Stolen

Author's Note: Thank you for the thoughtful comments last chapter, guys. You might need a tissue for this one.

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><p><strong>Chapter Twelve: Stolen<strong>

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><p>That night, something woke Donnie with a start. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, wondering what it was, then gasped silently as something scraped up his instep. The feeling wasn't painful, but strong, causing his sore stomach to involuntarily clench.<p>

A gentle chuckle reached him, and he looked toward his feet, straining to see his visitor.

_Jan_.

Donnie's heart rate tripled. He blinked a few times, in the wild hope that this was a nightmare, as she strolled along the table, trailing one hand up his inner thigh, letting it linger briefly between his legs, before continuing the journey up his plastron.

"You were really out of it! Tired?"

Donnie knew she was grinning. He didn't have to look at her - _couldn't_ look. His mind was replaying their last encounter in mortifying detail.

He flinched violently away as he felt her lips on the side of his mouth, belatedly recognizing it as a kiss. Truly shocked, Donatello turned to stare up at her with wide eyes, hating that he was so afraid of her, that his palms were starting to sweat and his breathing had become so fast.

Jan pursed her lips, the mockery of sympathy in her eyes.

"Was that your first kiss? Hm."

She snorted softly, eyes narrowing playfully as her hand reached to caress his cheek, making the muscles in his neck pull even tighter, hard as wire. Her touch was gentle, slender fingers sliding down, probing toward the base of his neck. He watched, in confusion and fear, as she slowly bent forward and put her mouth to his chest, just above his plastron. When her tongue slid over his collarbone, he squirmed under her, trying futiley to pull away, heart beating even faster in mortification as she somehow unbalanced him _completely_, brought him into his body in the worst way, forcing him to feel, forcing him to be afraid _again_...

Donnie swallowed, voice high and wavering, panicked, willing to say anything to make her stop. "I thought I was freak..." His voice cracked on the last, hurtful word.

At his words, she did stop. Jan straightened up, then leaned forward, and Donatello stared into her dark eyes, so close to his, and clenched his teeth as she started to laugh, loud and long, her incisors, just a little too sharp, flashing in the light.

As she pulled out a kunai, Donnie realized, late, that the guards weren't at the double doors.

They were alone.

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><p>Karai had Donatello's video feed on a forty-five minute timer now. When the beeping alert sounded off, she shifted around, switching to brushing her teeth with the other hand, and tapped her phone to pull up the spy camera app.<p>

An instant later she gasped, choking on the toothpaste in her mouth, and bent over the sink to spit. Coughing, eyes wide with shock, she rushed to the bedroom and started throwing her day clothes back on.

That _bitch_...Harada _Jan_...

Karai paused, hesitating for just a second, then ran to a clothes drawer, and drew out a sweatshirt with a hood; dark and unmemorable. Then she pocketed her phone, and sprinted for the door.

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><p>At some point while carving into his plastron, Jan had straddled him, resting her weight on his injured thigh.<p>

Donatello stared up at the ceiling, dazed from pain, tears streaming down his cheeks. She hadn't said anything since his comment earlier, silently torturing him, focused as Fishface had been on her "work".

With a clink, he heard her set the kunai down. Donnie had screamed, had _been_ screaming, since she started, but now he held himself as still as he could, every nerve focused on what Jan might do next. He panted, holding in the urge to moan, as she shifted on his thighs to lean forward.

Then he felt her tongue again, on his plastron, away from where she had cut him. The feel of her soft, wet mouth, after the excruciating pain of the knife, did something horrible to him.

A gasping sob escaped his lips. It was the contrast between the two, heightening the sensation of her mouth on his stomach, and the invasiveness of it; the unbearable memories of her laughing, holding his most private parts in her hand...

It felt like he was shattering.

Donnie felt her lips curve in a smile against him, and closed his eyes, unable to hold back the sobs.

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><p>In the cab, Karai pulled her phone out again. With eyes narrowed to a squint, as if that might help protect her from what she was seeing, Karai watched the tiny image, much like someone would watch a doctor performing surgery on them which didn't require sedation.<p>

Karai wasn't the kind of person to flinch at a little blood. She wasn't coddled, or trained by half measures. She understood the world of the ninja, and embraced it as her own. She knew what suffering looked like.

Even so, she put a hand to her mouth, eyes trapped by what was happening on the screen. As if waking from a spell, she finally jerked her eyes away. She bowed her head for a long moment, eyes closed.

Then Karai leaned forward, yelling at the cabbie. "Don't you know what an _emergency_ is!? _ Step on it!_"

With a trembling hand and a calming breath to steel herself, she brought the phone back up.

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><p>By the time Karai got there, she was already five minutes too late. Jan was gone.<p>

Not that she cared. She knew who Harada Jan was, _what_ she was. And Karai knew where to find her. And she _would_ find her, her allegiance to the Foot be damned. She wasn't worthy of...of _existing_ on this planet.

At some point during the trip in the cab, it had ceased to matter that Donatello was the enemy.

She just. Didn't. Care.

_Nothing_ mattered right now, except getting him out of this place, _tonight_.

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><p>.<p>

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AN: *Ducks flying objects* So. Is there a character in this story you feel like maiming (or killing) yet? Karai sure does!


	13. Let's Blow This Joint

Author's Note: I know the last chapter was a crazy one, so I'm getting this out fast! Thanks so much for your reviews last time, and I really look forward to your comments on this.

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen: Let's Blow This Joint<strong>

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><p>Karai had the cab driver drop her a few blocks away, out of sight of the research laboratory where Donatello was being held. She silently jogged toward the building, having donned her black sweatshirt for camouflage.<p>

In and out, without leaving any evidence. That's how she'd do this. Her father would never know. _No_ one would know about tonight, except Donatello, and she had a feeling he wouldn't mind keeping this a secret.

The Footbots placed around the building went down first. Karai had practice dealing with them, and took each one down quietly, using her tanto. No alarm was sounded.

The ninja who stood as guards to Donatello's laboratory were more of a challenge. She was lucky to avoid being spotted as they made their way toward the building, returning from wherever they'd wandered off to, but she managed to slip ahead of them, and maintain the element of surprise.

It wasn't that the guards weren't excellent ninja, but Karai had been training her entire life, under the head of one of the most powerful ninja clans in the world. She used blinding powder and struck from above, having found purchase in the over-sized door frame of the main entryway to the building, and as they both fell to the floor a moment later, knocked cold by the butt of her tanto, she felt confident that neither had seen her face.

Karai left them tied hand and foot by the entrance, using their own bandannas. She snorted derisively, as she made her way further into the building. They deserved worse. Bradford and Xever might just give it to them, too.

As she silently entered the lab, the keys she'd taken from the guards in hand, the sound of quiet sobbing reached her ears.

Karai stopped. Images, suppressed as she had focused on the task of taking down the guards, were suddenly playing through her mind, paralyzing her. She held still, every muscle stiff, as the quiet sound of Donatello's suffering entered her heart and sat there, like a monster, burrowing deep and bringing the prickle of tears to her eyes.

She suddenly quailed at the thought of going over to him, of looking at him as he _realized_ what she had seen, what she knew...

No. _No_. She _wouldn_'t do that. There was _no way_. Even if it _killed_ her, she wouldn't give him a _hint _that she knew. He didn't need to know _why_ she was getting him out of here, anyway. On a mission, personal motivations had no place, and that was how should would handle this. As a _professional_.

Karai straightened up, jaw clenched hard in a frown of concentration, and closed her eyes. A moment passed, then two, as she focused inward, working to tune out the sounds coming from the lab, to place herself in a frame of mind that held no emotion, no room for _anything_ other than the job at hand. Finally, her eyes shot open again, face hard, and she continued forward at a jog.

Karai kept her expression neutral as she reached Donatello. When she placed her hand on the manacle holding his right ankle, he gasped, then went silent. His body was subtly trembling, and a light sheen of sweat covered his skin. As if against her will, Karai glanced to his face, and saw the tears on his cheeks. She jerked her gaze away.

Donatello wasn't looking at her either. His face was turned to the side, straining away. Karai realized he must be terrified of...of who she might be.

She kept her eyes down, and quietly spoke, voice neutral. "I'm getting you out of here."

As she finished undoing the manacles at his ankles, Karai could sense as he slowly turned his head to briefly look at her. The energy there was tangible, the despair he felt hanging in the air like a silent companion.

She clenched her teeth, and moved to unlock his wrists. There were slight gouges where the manacles sat, from his straining against them. That was the effect a taser had on ones muscles; it caused them to jump and work against your will.

Heat, unbidden and mortifying, came to Karai's face. Under the smell of his blood and sweat, there was another odor.

She paused, gathering herself desperately, as tears suddenly pricked her eyes. She would not, she _would not _break down in front of him..!

She _knew_, if it had been her on that table, those tears would've been unbearable.

When Karai got up to the manacle around his neck, her face had turned to rock again; cold and hard. This was a rescue mission. That was _all_ she had room to think about.

A bitter voice reminded her that this "mission" went directly against what her father wanted.

After the last manacle came off, Donatello remained silent, not attempting to sit up.

Karai finally looked him in the face. His brown eyes were on the ceiling, staring unblinkingly.

She kept her voice firm and even. "Can you sit up?"

It was like he came out of a trance, eyes slowly closing and opening a few times. His mouth trembled; no, his entire jaw trembled. She could see him struggling, trying with everything he had, to hold himself together.

Karai clenched her hands into fists, eyes narrowing, fighting against herself again. Like a mantra, she silently repeated the thought that this was a mission. She was rescuing a prisoner, a professional ninja. She would _treat_ him like one.

"I-I think so." Donatello sounded vulnerable, like a child, taking in a gulp of air in a sort of reverse sob. Then, he was slowly rolling onto his side, pushing himself up.

His eyes closed in pain as he sat upright. "Ha-Aahh!"

Karai focused on the cuts in his plastron, noting that they weren't deep enough to damage muscle, which meant the biggest hindrance to his mobility was his injured leg. Her eyes lingered a little too long on the newest cuts, still smeared with fresh blood, but she stopped herself from trying to read, forcing her eyes away.

Donatello's hands shook, as Karai gently took his elbows. "Can you jump down?"

A silent nod.

"Good..."

Karai paused. She had meant to step in close to help him down, but a wave of resistance was pouring from him, almost like a physical force. Donatello was holding painfully still, not reaching for her help, instead silently waiting for her to step back.

Ignoring every instinct, which told her he might not be able, that he might stumble, Karai turned away, taking a few steps, and scanned the laboratory, arms crossed. Ears piqued, she heard a harsh intake of air as he hopped down.

Karai still didn't look over. Instead, she continued scanning the laboratory, until she spotted something across the room that might be useful. She finally glanced back his way, only allowing her mind to peripherally note the drawn look on Donatello's face, and that he stood bent slightly over the table, leg held awkwardly as he worked through the pain that jolting it had caused.

"Do you think a splint would help you walk?

He nodded slightly, eyes focused on the table. "Y-yeah. It would help."

Karai nodded, silently relieved to hear him sounding more emotionally in control, and made her way to a sink built into the storage cabinets across the room. With a focused, swift twisting motion, she tore the long, stainless steel faucet head away from sink. It took three tries, but in the end she had a strong, mostly straight piece of metal, with no sharp edges. She started back toward Donatello...

Who had _moved_. His complexion was looking a little grey and he was panting lightly, obviously from limping around on his damaged leg. He stood propped against another lab table, assembling some gadget.

Karai shook her head, incredulous. "Donatello! We have to _go_."

He nodded, without looking at her, and continued to work, his movements picking up speed. "One...two minutes max." His face darkened. "Then I'll be ready to blow this joint."

Karai raised an eyebrow, silently amazed. After _everything_...he was obviously crazy, but she couldn't help but admire him for being functional at all.

She walked over to him, snagging a rolling chair for him along the way, and placed the faucet head on the table. "Here." Donatello glanced briefly at it, never stopping his work.

Then Karai went back to the cabinets to locate twine or rope or tape; anything that would work to secure his injured leg for the make-shift splint.

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><p>By the time they left the lab, Donatello's leg was splinted, and he had a bag of goodies in one hand, no explanation forthcoming as to what he'd grabbed. The other arm was pulled around Karai's shoulders, as she took nearly all of his weight on every other step forward.<p>

Still, it was better than having to carry him.

Donatello seemed to be in a hurry, finally focused entirely on leaving, breath wheezing in pain as they made their way out of the building, and to the parking lot.

Karai came to a stop, giving Donatello a brief break as she glanced around. "We need to hot wire a car. Can you do that?"

"_What_?!" Donatello stiffened next to her, and Karai glanced sideways to see his eyes go wide.

Partly recovering himself, he quickly continued, voice pitched higher. "Um, yeah, I can do that." He quickly pointed toward a small black car, one of a very few vehicles there. It was likely owned by one of the guards. "That one will work; no alarm."

Karai had to jump to keep up as he took a step on his own, suddenly moving twice as fast.

After the door was popped open, a lot of cursing and yelling took place as Donatello blindly used a hand to yank a plastic piece out from under the steering wheel, uncovering the wiring underneath. Being on his knees, and having to reach forward and put weight on his plastron clearly hurt like anything, but he seemed hell bent on getting the work done fast.

Karai's eyes widened, impressed when, two minutes later, the car revved to life. Donatello slumped down, sitting next to the car on the ground. Even in the poor lighting, she could see that his face had turned grey again, and he was panting hard, hands clenched on the asphalt.

"Th-there. H-help me get...in the back."

Karia reached out, using both hands to grip his arm under one elbow, and yanked, pulling him to his feet as he pushed up with his good leg. "AAUgh! Hahh...hahh. Heh. That...that smarted."

Karai couldn't help it; that made her crack a lopsided smile. "Oh _really,_ I couldn't te..."

They both crouched slightly, as a concussive boom ripped through the air.

Karai, hands still on Donatello's arm, slowly looked behind her, eyes wide, mouth agape.

The building they'd been in only minutes before had erupted. Chunks of the roof were raining down, and fast growing flames illuminated the wreckage. A moment later, a fire alarm started up.

When she looked back, mouth still open, Donatello was smiling sheepishly. He swallowed.

"S-sorry I couldn't give us more of a head start?"

Karai just stared.

A minute later, they were both in the car, Donatello still wheezing in pain from being stuffed unceremoniously into the back. As Karai hit the gas pedal, she rolled her eyes.

She was outraged, but mostly at herself. She couldn't _believe_ she hadn't put two and two together when they were in the lab earlier! At least their tracks were very _thoroughly_ covered now.

A few minutes later, after the shock had worn off a bit, a grin finally reached Karai's lips, insuppressible.

She would've blown the place up, too.

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><p>.<p>

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AN: Thanks so much for reading this, and your thoughts and comments are welcome as always! What do you guys think?


	14. Change of Plans

Author's Note: I was BLOWN AWAY by your responses last time around! Thank you so much! I have been working a ton the last few days (work that pays the bills yay fun), but I wanted to get a really quick chapter out. The next few will be longer, promise! Thank you so much for reading! You guys got me through this week.

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><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen: Change of Plans<strong>

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><p>A few minutes into the drive, Donatello's quiet voice floated to Karai from the back seat.<p>

"Karai?"

She glanced into the rear view mirror, anticipating what he might say. "There's no need to thank me, Donatello. Just tell me where to drop you, and we go our separate ways. I never saw you, I never helped you. Got it?"

"S-sure. Um...but I can't go back immediately."

Karai's eyes narrowed and she raised an eyebrow, deadpanning. "What. Planning a trip to Hawaii?"

"I just mean...can we please make a stop first? For twenty minutes. _Ten_." Donatello sounded desperate, his eyes wide when she glanced in the mirror again.

"For _what_? Why?"

"I need to..."

Donatello stopped as his voice quavered, eyes dropping. A second later he had shifted slightly, hiding away from her gaze in the mirror. He started again, tone quiet and carefully neutral. "I want to clean up first, to minimize how hurt I look. _Please_."

Karai stared ahead, into the darkness. The image of Jan, straddling him, moving over him...

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"Fine."

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><p>Sneaking Donatello into the motel had been a challenge. Even near midnight, a few young people were still up, drinking, smoking; doing the kinds of things that had some mother probably pulling her hair out.<p>

The room, part of a flat block of a four story building filled with identical, crummy little rooms, was on the first floor, and only ten feet from their parking space. The décor consisted of dull shades of brown and off-white, and there was the lingering smell of cigarette smoke.

Nose wrinkling slightly, Karai kicked the door closed with one foot after they entered, and continued straight on, Donatello leaning heavily on her shoulder. She didn't like that they were still using a car owned by a member of the Foot, and was already impatient to be done here so they could get going again.

Donatello addressed her as they shuffled forward, his voice gentle. "Karai...thanks."

Karai frowned, face hardening. "I _said_ you don't..."

"I know."

Karai blinked a few times, as her throat tightened. She knew she should tell him off, make clear they were still enemies, and the minute she dropped him off later that night, he'd be a target of the Foot clan, _her_ clan, again...

But the words wouldn't come.

A few seconds later, Donatello cried out in pain, causing Karai to flinch. She stopped, struggling as she found herself unexpectedly taking on even more of his weight. She tried shifting around, to stabilize them both.

"What's wron...?"

Donatello moved unexpectedly, straightening, as he brought his elbow down hard. Karai crumpled, instantly knocked cold.

Breathing heavily, Donnie lowered her down in a controlled fall, grunting as his injured leg gave out, and sat next to her on the thin, old carpet. He reached out, hand shaking slightly, and patted Karai's limp form on the shoulder.

"And...hahhh..._sorry_...about that..." His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, face hardening from fatigue and something more. Something outraged at the world; hurt and furious and protective all at once.

"...sis."

She had just rescued him from _hell_, whether she knew it or not. Donnie was going to return the favor, whether she appreciated it right now...or not.

He reached into the bag he'd insisted on bringing with him from the car, and took out a bottle of pills.

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><p>.<p>

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AN: I know...super short! I'm going to go collapse now haha. I promise the next chapters will be longer. Good night!


	15. Captive Audience

Author's Note: Woohoo a longer chapter, as promised! *pats self on back* I really enjoyed your comments last time around, and am SO happy you enjoyed the twist! I'm a tad nervous about this update, and hope you enjoy. Thanks so much for reading!

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><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen: Captive Audience<br>**

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><p>Karai woke up feeling dizzy, in a dimly lit place. She started to shift around, and realized with a start that she couldn't breath through her mouth. Her heart rate picked up, as she assessed the situation.<p>

Arms bound. Legs bound. Tape covering her mouth.

Keeping her movements minimal and eyes slitted, she slowly looked around, wincing from a sharp pain in the back of her head. She was sitting, tied to an over-sized office chair. As her gaze traveled further, Karai inhaled abruptly, head jolting back in shock, and eyes going wide. The sudden movement accented the throbbing in the back of her skull.

She took a shaky breath.

About ten feet in front of her, there was a...a monster of sorts. It seemed dead, or at least frozen, but the glaring eyes were wide open. It had no skin, muscle, or bone. It was only the _innards_ of a person or creature; the guts and nerves, suspended in a tank of what looked suspiciously like mutagen.

Feeling disgusted, she glanced away...

Only to come face to face with Donatello.

"_Mm_...!"

Karai flinched back. She couldn't help it, after what she'd just been staring at. The brainiac was only a foot or so away, sitting down. She immediately narrowed her eyes, frowning through the tape as her second shock in moments was replaced by pure fury.

_What...what did he __**think**__ he was __**doing?!**_

Donatello gave her a sheepish grin. The dim lighting made it hard to judge, but his face looked even worse than before, more gray than green, and his eyes were completely blood shot. As she looked more carefully, still glaring daggers at him, Karai could see that his pupils were dilated.

He looked...high.

When Donatello spoke, his voice was strained and thin, but his tone was weirdly cheery, the words a little too fast to comfortably follow.

"Hey sis...sorry about this! Not the nicest home coming, I-I know. Problem is, you still think Shred-head's your _dad_. But, I can _fix_ that."

Karai's glare gradually fell way, tempered by caution. He had drugged himself with something strong, and was obviously in shock.

With her focus on him rather than his words, she didn't absorb what he'd said until a few seconds later.

_Sis...!? _Tell_ me he is _joking_!_

Donatello lifted a hand, which she could see was visibly trembling. He held a Q-tip between his thumb and forefinger. Karai noticed that he now wore an enormous gray sweatshirt, with long baggy sleeves. It looked more like a nightgown, given that it fell well below his plastron. The ridiculous thing just added to her surreal circumstances.

"Observe!" Donatello grinned wide, then opened his mouth, and swiped the Q-tip around inside. He giggled a little, under his breath, as he held the Q-tip up for inspection.

"Spit! Also known as a buccal swab. It holds a sample of my genetic material. My DNA!"

Karai watched, incredulous, as Donatello somehow forced himself to stand up, in a jolting, unstable motion that screamed how far past his physical limits he had already gone.

The way he moved felt wrong to her, as if something fundamental was missing...?

Her eyes widened, as it clicked. _He isn't reacting. _ He moved like he didn't feel any pain.

As Donatello made his way to a nearby table, it became obvious to see. He had acquired a make-shift crutch and was relying on it to avoid using his injured leg, which he held away from the ground, bent slightly at the knee. The pain of holding it up that way, given the muscular damage, should've prevented him from moving around. But he started right into a swinging lope, shifting from his good leg to the crutch and back again, the movements surprisingly fluid.

Karai's fingers curled slightly, as she watched.

Some sort of chemistry project awaited him on the table. Karai could hardly believe her eyes, as she recognized a few of the gadgets he had stolen from the lab earlier incorporated into what, she realized, had to be a _new_ project. Just how long had she been out?

Donatello placed the Q-tip he'd just used into some kind of liquid solution, then retrieved a second Q-tip, and started working his way back to her. He was still grinning, as he lowered himself to sit again. He set down the crutch, freeing up his other hand.

"Um...this might hurt slightly." Without preamble, Donatello reached out and tore away what had _definitely_ been duct tape. Karai yelled out in pain, and while her mouth was open, Donatello swooped in, the Q-tip quickly pushing around inside her mouth, digging into the side of her cheek.

She coughed slightly as he withdrew it, outraged. "_What_ the h...!" Then the tape was shoved back in place, roughly, with a huge, trembling hand.

"S-sorry! But I can't have you wake up the family _just_ yet." Donnie held up the Q-tip. "This is important! This is _your_ buccal swab. _Your_ DNA."

As he made his way back to the chemistry project, Karai slumped in the chair as best she could, completely flabbergasted. He was _insane!_

As she silently fidgeted with her bindings in the hope of freeing herself, Karai could see that Donatello was heading toward collapse very soon. His good leg was shaking from fatigue, his entire form swaying slightly as he worked. He'd been busy while she was unconscious, obviously getting her down here, _somehow_, by himself, and setting up that scientific gadgetry. She was amazed he'd done it all, and wondered, on a darker note, just what the _hell_ kind of drugs he had taken.

Karai stopped moving as Donatello turned to face her. Her eyes widened slightly as she noticed for the first time that his shin - the older injury- had red blotches showing through the gauze. It was bleeding again. Her jaw clenched. He probably didn't even know.

As he started back toward her, Donatello picked up their one sided conversation, his voice still upbeat, still too fast.

"Heh heh...you know what? It's kind of _amazing_, because that lab I blew sky high tonight? It was for genetics research! Remember how I grabbed some stuff, before we left? I've _just_ started - get this - the new and improved 41-mark siblingship test! Or, _half_ siblingship, in our case. It's totally authentic, cutting edge technology." He raised a hand, wagging a finger in the air. "Accuracy is important!"

Donatello stopped moving abruptly, looking dazed, and swayed where he stood. Karai's eyes widened as his face turned a shade she was _sure_ wasn't remotely healthy, even for someone with green skin.

But a moment later, whatever had come over him was under control again, although he shifted his weight to lean more heavily on the crutch.

He was slightly out of breath. "You see...you _see_, before I got mutated, Master Splinter - your dad - he _must_ have been the last person I came in contact with. I know this because I received _his_ genetic imprint." He blinked at her, frowning as if something had occurred that he felt should be clarified. "Just me- the others all take from somebody...don't know who, probably a pet store emp...em..." He struggled for a moment, face scrunched in concentration, the fatigue there painful to witness. "...um...pet store w-worker."

Donatello raised his eyebrows, smile popping back onto his face. "See, as far as I've _determined_, whatever genetic material you come into contact with just before exposure to mutagen _dictates_ your mutation. That's because mutagen _prefers_ genetic material, to non living material. For instance, even Mutagen Man..."

Donatello faltered, voice suddenly quiet. "I-I mean, Timothy..."

Karai watched as the eager, surreally upbeat expression on his face fell away. Regret radiated from him, eyes wide and lost. The emotion there was so raw, it seemed like he might cry any moment.

Karai felt her entire body react to the sudden, drastic shift in his mood, the hairs standing up on her arms, and muscles tensing. She swallowed, jaw clenched as she carefully watched him.

She shouldn't _be_ here. This situation was so _wrong_. She hated that he had dragged her down here, and tied her up. She hated that he was standing there, about to cry. She _hated_ it!

But he didn't cry. Donatello closed his eyes for a long moment, and then his eyes snapped open again, the grin back in place, as if the mood swing had never occurred. Karai stared at him, unnerved.

His voice was chirpy again too.

"Where was I? Right! So, I'm not in a _strict_ sense a turtle, per se. Of _course_." He chuckled. "I mean, _look_ at me." He gestured at himself, raising a brow as if his comment couldn't possibly be any more obvious.

"My brothers and I are roughly half human now. In my case, I share- again, roughly speaking- _half_ of Sensei's genes. And that makes _us_- you and me- in a non traditional sense..._half_ siblings! Is that cool or _what_?"

Donatello's grin widened, and he laughed a little again. For the first time since she had awoken, Karai heard his washed out, strained voice harden as he laughed, turning into something bitter and hurting. He stared at her from where he stood, eyes glinting in the semi-darkness.

"I'm your brother. And youare going to _see_ that. You'll see." His eyes narrowed, anger flashing in them, voice raising.

"_I_ can set up and run a 41-mark half siblingship test, Karai! I recognized by _sight_ what that equipment was and how to _use_ it! How many fifteen year olds do you know who can do _that_, huh? Right, thought so! _None_."

Donatello snorted, eyes cutting to the side, and for an instant she could see pure outrage on his face. Then he clenched his jaw, and closed his eyes again, face slowly crumpling.

"I'm..._sorry_." He swallowed, and when he slowly opened his eyes to look at her, head bowed, Karai could see the regret there. "I-I shouldn't have yelled. Especially when you can't even talk b-"

Words forgotten, Donatello buckled, suddenly holding onto the crutch for all he was worth, his entire body trembling. His breathing had gone instantly from inaudible, to loud and harsh, and his eyes were out of focus, not really looking at her anymore, so much as in her general direction.

Karai stared at him in alarm, guessing that he probably saw two, maybe three of her at the moment.

Somehow, after waging a battle with his body lasting over a minute, Donatello straightened up again. He pointed, hand shaking violently, to another table, one closer to her, with a computer of sorts on it.

"Now, Karai...I-I mean...Miwa...I th-think the hydromorphone and...a-a-adrenaline...are starting to wear off. But, that's _okay_, because this video..." She could see his face sag, the pain forcing him to stop.

Donatello pushed on after a moment, in mid-thought, voice pinched and weak. "...is going to walk you through...h-how this t-test w-works. Because you need...to _understand_...that this is _real_."

He took a step, barely staying upright, then another, his movements radiating agony as he made his way to the desk. Every breath he took was harsh and short, and much too fast. Finally, he reached forward, and a video started to play. It had captions, and the sound was turned low.

Karai only glanced at it a moment, before focusing back on Donatello. He clutched the table with both hands, letting the crutch drop away and clatter to the floor, as he levered himself down in a slow motion collapse, until he lay completely flat on the ground, face down. He didn't move for a few seconds, breathing in harsh gasps of air. Then, he turned his face toward her, cheek pressed to the floor.

"G-night..._sis_..."

She stared at him, waiting. But that was it. Donatello's eyes had closed, his face going limp. The fool had passed out.

Karai silently huffed through her nose, a tension that had built more and more since she first woke up finally starting to drain away. She needed to get _out_ of here. She started again on working to free herself, shifting this way and that to find a weakness in her restraints.

After a moment, Karai stilled. Her mind was unable to focus just yet on getting free. Her gaze returned, reluctantly, to Donatello. She listened to his wheezing breathes, filled with pain even in sleep.

He had pushed himself _so_ _hard_, maybe even damaging his body further, and for _what_?

Karai blinked a few times, as the last several hours washed over her, and her own aches and pains briefly overwhelmed her. She could feel bruises forming she didn't remember acquiring, and could picture Donatello as he'd dragged her down here with him. She wouldn't be surprised if she had been dropped a few times along the way.

But she didn't even care about that.

She just wanted to be _away_ from here, instead of stuck watching him sleep, seeing that stupid gray sweatshirt covering up everything. Like he could _cover up_ what happened to him! Karai _didn't want _to hear him talk about genetics and mutagen in a chirpy, excited voice when he had gashes in his stomach and blood oozing from his shin and thigh, and had been violated in the _worst way_...

Karai blinked rapidly, shuddering from what she told herself must be fatigue, and looked away from his sleeping form, unable to stomach it any longer. As tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, her jaw clenched hard, and she told herself it _must_ be lack of sleep, and not simple emotional weakness.

But she...she didn't _want_ to see those red rimmed, dilated eyes, or the shaking limbs, or the powerless _anger_ in his voice...

Karai closed her eyes, feeling miserable as pity washed over her. She had been furious at first, but as Donatello had talked to her, truly convinced that they were siblings, not simply trying to use that as a weapon against her, but really _believing_ that, and wanting her to believe it too...

Despite being knocked out, dragged down here, and tied up, she _still_ couldn't stay angry. That emotion wasn't anywhere to be found.

Her father would be ashamed and furious, if he knew.

That thought helped to focus her. She _had_ to get out of here, and get back home, before anyone could draw a connection between her absence and Donatello's escape.

Karai opened her eyes, and breathed deeply through her nose, slowly letting the air out again in a long, controlled exhale, blinking a few more times to be rid of her useless tears. She started testing her restraints in earnest.

Maybe, after she got loose in a little while, she'd find a way to tip Donatello's real family off that he was here, on her way out.

For his sake.

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AN: So, not a lot of forward movement here- but I'm really curious as to what you guys think of this chapter! (Also, just FYI, my updates may slow a bit as things are about to be very busy in my life for the next week or so.)


	16. A Shallow Grave

Author's Note: Thank you for the comments from last time! Reading your opinions and comments really cheers me up! Work has been crazy, and I am a zombie woman right now. I was determined to get a chapter out this week, but...there may be a few type-os? I'll fix them later, promise! :D Hope you guys enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen: A Shallow Grave<strong>

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><p><em>It was someone else here, not him. It was a movie, a bad dream, a story in the news. Not <em>him_. _

_Nails dug into his plastron, across his cuts, as she moved her body against his. Every motion burned._

_It didn't matter. He was somewhere else. This wasn't _real_. He was in the lair, asleep in the lab. _

_He couldn't look away from her, couldn't close his eyes, or she would use the taser again. Her own eyes were glazed, lips slightly parted._

_This was only a story he'd heard, something in the news. He'd felt bad for the person, and had turned it into a nightmare. It wasn't something that was happening to him. This wasn't something that could _ever_ happen to _him...

_Her hair brushed his chest, in a repetitive motion._

_This wasn't...this wasn't _happening_. No...no..._no_...NO..._

Donnie thrashed and turned onto his side, waking abruptly, shocked and disoriented, gasping huge breaths of air, eyes opening wide. He was trembling all over, everything still so near, even as he realized where he really was. Had he...had he yelled out just now? He moaned quietly, the sound of misery building as he fought down the powerful urge to cry. He started to curl into himself, pulling his knees toward his chest...

A muscle spasmed in his bicep, another in his back, another in his calf, as his mind was torn from the past and back to the present, blank from the pain.

"Aaaggghh...!"

Donnie tried to go limp to help the spasming, already knowing he'd have to wait it out, until the muscles gradually unclenched. His tear ducts burned with salt, his body too dehydrated to produce water. Under the stabbing pain of the spasms there was a bone deep ache, as if he'd gone roof jumping and missed. Donnie let out another moan, this one rough with pain, and saw double for a few moments, cheek pressed into the cold floor. His bleary gaze traveled along the ground, and up...

...until his eyes met Karai's.

She looked anguished, brows drawn together over wide, rapidly blinking eyes. Was she...crying? Donatello's vision wavered for a moment, and as it cleared again, the look on her face had vanished. Now she seemed distant, and angry. Donnie squinted, still reeling from pain. He must've imagined...? He closed his eyes again, unable to maintain focus, groaning quietly. His muscles, still clenched hard as rock, were refusing to relax.

Then everything rushed back. Breaking out. Blowing up the lab. The motel, knocking out Karai...taking a triple dose of hydromorphone and adrenaline each so he could lug her back to the lair.

_Einstein's mustache, it hurts...!_

Donnie breathed in through his mouth, the air whistling through his teeth, lips pulled back in a grimace. Even his _cheeks_ were sore, the clenched muscles spasming slightly. The parts of his body that weren't sore were worse, rather than better. His leg burned, throbbing with every heartbeat, both the shin and thigh having turned into a Grand Central Station of radiating agony, shooting outward to every part of his leg, and even upward into his abdomen and over to the other leg. Moving it at all, even with the crutch, would mean self inflicted torture.

The irony was that he'd _known_ this would happen.

_I'm so thirsty..._

Moving, even a little bit, even for water, was impossible. Donatello was stuck. He glanced back to Karai, moving only his eyes. She now looked like she might kill him, if not for the fact that she was still tied up.

_Hah_. Despite the pain, that brought a grin to his face. He'd known she had planned on bolting, had seen it in her expression before he'd passed out earlier.

_I'm a genius _and_ a ninja! If I tie you up, you _stay_ tied up!_

Donnie started to chuckle, then stopped immediately as a muscle under his plastron started to spasm. He cringed, the muscle jumping repeatedly, a needle thin line of agony running from the middle of his abdomen, to just below the left side of his rib cage.

_I'm an idiot._

Donnie started doing gentle, slow breathing, carefully deepening each inhale, but his lungs hardly had any air for it. He kept on doggedly, and slowly, slowly, his muscles began to unclench, his eyes finally managing to squeeze out just a few salty tears. As the pain receded somewhat, other thoughts had more room.

_Oh man. What __**time**__ is it?_

Donnie kept taking deep breaths, still not ready to move. Whatever time it might be, he wasn't going to be doing _anything_ for a few minutes more. He glanced up at Karai again.

"Muscle...spasms."

She made a motion as if to kick him, failing to even come close. Donnie grinned again, closing his eyes. He knew it shouldn't be funny, but it was. Karai was so cocky, so sure of herself, and he'd bested her. It felt good. Did this count as sibling rivalry?

When Donnie finally dared to sit up, in increments, and got a glance at the laptop, we winced.

_Oh __**man**__...__! _

It was eight o'clock at night! He'd been out of it _all day?!_ This was not good, this was...very, _very_ bad! He obviously hadn't been discovered yet, by some miracle. Had they been avoiding the lab? Donnie knew they'd normally be heading out to patrol right about now, but since he had been...since he'd gotten taken, he didn't know _what_ they'd be doing.

Maybe they were in the pit, watching Space Heroes. He ought to drag himself over, let them know he was here...

"_Surpri-ise! I've been home since last night! Just...hanging out in the lab. Yeeah, just...taking it easy. Karai's here too! She's tied up. And gagged! Uh, Leo...?"_

Donnie giggled slightly, but it was something born out of incredible exhaustion, and guilt. He grimaced. His head was throbbing. It felt heavy, and too big for his body. Moving even a little bit made everything feel off balance, as if he were suspended in a swing that was slowly swaying back and forth.

Donnie curled into himself slightly, hunching where he sat on the ground. He'd be _sick_ with worry in their place, and not waking them the minute he had returned was thoughtless, even cruel. He hadn't thought things through clearly, imagining himself to be capable of more, or maybe expecting the medication to last longer. He didn't really know, now.

But Donatello _couldn't_ tell the others he was here, not yet. He glanced toward Karai, not really looking, eyes out of focus. Her form, dark in long jeans and a black sweatshirt, was a blurry backdrop to his thoughts.

His family didn't know about his relationship to Master Splinter. Even Sensei _himself_ didn't know.

Donatello had kept it a secret since he was twelve years old. The only reason he himself knew was due to scientific curiosity, and Splinter's willingness to gather strange things for his precocious child when he made trips topside for supplies. Donnie had wanted to understand what they were, back when all he'd had was Sensei's story and a broken container of mutagen to ponder over.

But after his discovery, Donnie hadn't wanted to share. Instead, he'd buried it deep down inside himself, and destroyed the test results. What did biology have to do with anything, anyway? They were a family. Leo, Mikey, and Raph would always be his brothers, and Master Splinter would always be their father. He had promised himself that no one would ever find out about that stupid test.

Now Donnie needed someone to know. His _sister_. As he had pulled together the last touches to the diesel-mutagen bomb he'd devised, it had become essential for Karai to understand the truth. He'd known then that he would bring her with him to the lair, no matter what. Donatello needed Karai to look at him, at his green skin and shell, his face and hands and feet, at his _chest_, and acknowledge that they were physically related.

The others didn't know about the words gouged into him, and they never would. What was the point? It would only hurt them, Mikey especially. But _Karai_, normal, human Karai, had already seen. It was so drastically inadequate now, not _remotely_ good enough, for her to simply recognize her father as Hamato Yoshi. She had a brother, regardless of how she felt about Splinter, and _his_ name was Hamato Donatello.

But the siblingship test had to stay between the two of them, which meant he needed _more time. _To show Karai - to _convince_ her. And then, to get her word as a ninja that she wouldn't tell the others.

With a renewed focus, Donnie gingerly crawled toward his desk, and reached up to pull the laptop to the edge. He tipped it over in a guided fall to the floor, lacking the power to properly hold its weight. Careful as he was, he still grunted from pain as a muscle in his hand spasmed.

The video was still playing. Donnie glanced over to Karai, who had finally given up on glaring at him. She looked terrible, with circles under her eyes, and she had somehow gotten one foot twisted around at a weird angle, which had probably strained her ankle by now. She looked very, very tired.

He didn't blame her. She _had_ just watched _DNA Testing: Modern Methods _about...thirty-four times now. Donnie stopped the video, shooting a sheepish glance toward Karai.

Unable to curb his sense of guilt, he pulled up the security feed, which consisted of a series of motion sensors placed around each entrance to the lair, and started tweaking settings.

Before long, the code he'd written to artificially limit the long distance sensors he'd used had been pulled out of the program, allowing an accurate reflection of their full range again. Now, Donnie would see an alert on the screen when anyone moved in the kitchen or the pit, as well as at the entrances to the lair. The bedrooms, however, were too far away to be picked up by the sensors, along with the dojo.

Right now, things were quiet. No blips. So, either they were all in the dojo or their bedrooms, or they weren't home at all right now.

Or, they were all staying very, very _still_. Even Mikey. While watching Space Heroes.

Donnie rolled his eyes, then turned to look at the lab door, eyes narrowed in indecision. He had never been so thirsty in his life. He swallowed, the motion failing to bring any relief, his throat burning and dry. Karai had to be thirsty, too, and hungry, not to mention she probably needed a restroom by now. And Donatello really, _really_ needed to take another dose of hydromorphone to be functional. Wheeling Karai over to that test, explaining it to her...he just wasn't _capable_ of it right now.

He stared pensively at the door, hunching over even more, mouth pulling into an unhappy frown. The possibility he'd run into someone...

Donnie glanced around, reacting unconsciously, and found himself staring at Karai. She had been watching him. Her eyes widened, and she looked off to the side, frowning. Donnie stared at her profile, feeling unsettled by the look he'd caught on her face, however fleeting. His mind skipped back suddenly to how he'd woken up, how she'd been watching him then, too.

A wave of anxiety ripped through Donatello. He tensed up, despite desperately trying not to, and a spasm started in his right shoulder. He took deep breaths, eye closed, trying to fight down panic. He'd yelled when he first woke up..._hadn't_ he? What if he'd cried out in his sleep, too? Had...had he _said_ something?

Karai had gotten him through last night...afterward. Her firm, straight forward comments had saved him, guiding him, focusing him on something else, on getting out of that laboratory, on escape.

If-if she knew, if she _found out_...

Donnie turned away from her, clumsy from pain, desperate to hide his face. He couldn't stop the panic from showing through, heart racing painfully. He swallowed, throat rough and hurting, as the spasming in his shoulder persisted. Using sheer will power, Donnie started dragging himself to his crutch, putting more distance between him and Karai. He sat bent forward, a hand resting on the clunky crutch, which was hardly more than a modified stick, the parts he'd used held together by duct tape and rope. His lungs dragged in air, heaving and shuddering from the agony of pulling himself along too quickly. Donatello's mind felt tied together too, taped up and held together by rope, and it was pulling at him, trying to break down, wanting to force tears of panic and mortification out of his burning eyes.

But he _wouldn't,_ not in front of her, not ever again. It was only a dream now, a nightmare, and he would _bury_ it. He would bury it deep, until even those left him alone...

The panic finally started to recede, and a quiet roar in his ears; the sound of his own blood rushing through his head; slowly resided with it, leaving behind the sound of his own breathing, and the familiar noises his lab always made.

No. Karai hadn't seen anything last night. Nobody was _that_ good at pretending. And even if she had heard him talk in his sleep today, there was no way it meant anything to her. It would have been garbled, random, maybe with a meaningless word here and there. He was overreacting, freaking out for no reason.

With the spasms in his shoulder finally gone, Donnie pushed himself once more, moving through the fire in his leg, inching himself up until he more or less stood upright, relying on the crutch to serve as a second leg.

He would brave the kitchen, to get them both some water. Dehydration was making it difficult to think, to keep his emotions in check. Karai was obviously suffering too, having been tied up for so long. It was no wonder she looked so unhappy.

Donnie started shuffling toward the door, one limping step after another, having to halt every few steps to recover from the pain. He didn't try to turn back around, didn't speak a word in explanation. He couldn't face her, not just yet. After re-hydrating, after the pain medication...he'd apologize. As many times as it took, on bended knee. He'd finish the test and show her the results. She would meet her _real_ father, her new brothers, and he'd...let them know he was okay. A little rest and relaxation, and he'd be right as rain.

Tonight, Donnie would sleep in his room, alone, with the door locked. Just...to be safe. His prison had been blown to bits, and as far as he was concerned, the things that happened there had died with it.

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AN: I swear he'll meet a family member sooner or later, being in the lair and all LOL! Please let me know what you think?


	17. Home

Author's Note: I had a few really wonderful reviews from anonymous people last time, and just wanted to say thanks. I really appreciate and enjoy your words!

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><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen: Home<strong>

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><p>Donatello hadn't been able to resist sitting at the kitchen table. He had the pill bottle out, taken from where he'd stashed it in a voluminous pocket of his sweatshirt, and was trying with both hands to open the thing.<p>

The child safety lid was getting the better of him.

His hands were shaking, was the problem, and they had no strength. The trembling was almost impossible to control, although the glass of water he'd downed was helping to clear his mind some already. With one last determined motion, he managed to twist the cap, but it went flying, landing on its edge on the floor, where it proceeded to roll even further away toward the kitchen entrance, coming to a stop by someone's feet.

Time slowed. Donnie's eyes were locked there, frozen, the energy of his focus like a tangible thing, directed across the kitchen, to those feet.

His gaze was inevitably drawn up. Donatello took in the familiar robe, and the slender hands, which were hanging so strangely limp. Up the strong, steady form, held so still. Then his eyes reached the inhuman face; a face he'd known his entire life. It belonged to the man who had taught him to read, to speak, to walk, had fed and clothed him and loved him. He was staring into the shocked gaze of his father.

Donatello spoke, voice a croak. "S-Sensei."

His mind whispered that the timing was wrong, it was too soon. But that voice was faint, while the emotion between the two of them was overwhelming.

There were tears pooling in Splinter's eyes. Donnie hadn't ever seen his father cry. Not like this. As Splinter blinked, once, the tears fell into the fur around his beautiful golden eyes.

Splinter took one halting step. Then it was like a dam broke, and an instant later he was directly in front of where Donatello sat, hands cupping his face, staring down into his eyes. Donnie felt tears running down his own face, his throat closed as he was overwhelmed, as the horror and pain from the last few weeks rose up, the fear that he would _never see his family again...!_

"Donatello..." Splinter's voice broke, too weak for words, and instead of trying to speak more, he tenderly pressed Donnie's face to his chest, cradling the back of his head with both hands.

Donnie set down the pill bottle, and his hands went to Splinter's robe, gathering the material, holding onto it. The movement was pure instinct, unstoppable, undeniable. Despite the trembling, his hands could've been made of steel, because part of him felt that he would never let go, ever again.

His throat slowly unclenched, letting out quiet sobs, which slowly grew and grew, until he was wailing in misery like a small child. He kept his cheek pressed into Splinter's robe, eyes squeezed tight, as if that could make the demons go away, make the last few weeks disappear forever...

Then suddenly, another of the muscle spasms struck, in his upper back. Donatello's cries turned to desperate sobs of pain, as he still held as fast as he could, refusing to move away from the safe heartbeat of his father.

Splinter spoke, his voice trembling, distressed. "Donatello...you are in _pain_."

The sobs were stab wounds, striking Splinter's heart. He began to gently pull away, determined to see the cause, but Donnie refused to let go. Splinter gave in, unwilling to push him away, and stepped even closer instead, lending Donatello his warmth in the hopes that it would help the pain, as he returned to cradling Donatello's head to his chest.

Splinter listened, head bowed and eyes closed, a kaleidescope of emotions running through him, as his son's agonized sobs gradually weakened. Donatello's entire form trembled against his chest, and under the smell of sweat Splinter detected other scents. The open pill bottle stank, full of some strong drug, and his son had open wounds, the blood filtered through cotton. The sharp smell of antiseptic lingered, along with soap and the odors that came with emotional and physical stress.

Splinter wanted badly to step back and check his son over from head to toe, _now_, and to do everything in his power to make the pain disappear. And yet, he never wanted to let him go, even to do that. The instinct to just hold him close was far stronger than anything else.

All the emotions he'd been holding in check, to be strong for his other sons, were finally flowing outward. The old tragedy of losing his daughter fifteen years ago had been drawn to the surface, and that crippling loss, which was still so near in some ways, had forced him to confront the terror he'd held in check over the last few weeks.

Splinter had finally confronted the fact that his child might never have returned to him again.

He bowed his head further, the agony of the past wrapped around a relief so strong that it made his breath hitch, fresh tears spilling out through closed eyes.

"My son..." It was a whisper, a heartfelt prayer.

Donatello's body finally began to relax against his, the clenching hands loosening their grip, and instead of grasping onto him, Donatello simply rested against Splinter, the energy going out of his exhausted form. A few moments passed in silence, as they remained close.

Then, Splinter slowly shifted, gingerly reaching down to place his hands under Donatello's arm pits. He carefully pressed back, and only received a soft groan of protest from his son this time, who finally allowed him to step back and take a look at him close up.

Splinter's tears had finally stopped, but it took all he had to hold his outward reactions in check as he took in the layered bruising, and the old blood mixed with the new, deep red blotches seeping through multiple bandages on Donatello's leg. He reached down, to gently pull at the sweatshirt, half afraid of what might be underneath.

Donatello gasped, hand pressing down against his.

His voice was high, shaky. "N-no...! I-I cleaned it up, it's bandaged. I was cut some. Not too bad." He glanced to the side, with a look that Splinter knew well meant a lie had been told.

Splinter paused, indecisive, and Donatello quietly continued, voice pleading.

"I'm cold..."

Splinter let his hand drop, gaze lingering on the sweatshirt, a lead weight of worry settling in his stomach. Leonardo and even Michelangelo, usually the quickest to share his troubles, had yet to share what had been in that evil video. Even Leo, so self contained, had broken down, cried in his arms...

"S-Sensei, could you get me some more water?" Splinter met his son's imploring eyes again, and nodded, recognizing the attempt at re-direction for what it was.

_Later_. He would check on those "cuts" when Donatello was more comfortable.

"Of course." He reached for the glass already on the table and went to fill it up, keeping his peripheral vision on Donatello as he did. He wasn't emotionally ready to completely let him out of his sight.

"Thanks." Splinter hesitated as he saw Donatello retrieve a pill from the bottle beside him, and pop it in his mouth.

"What is that medicine you have? It _smells_..." Splinter raised a concerned eyebrow as he returned with the water. Donnie gave him a sheepish grin, taking the glass and, with Splinter's help, chased down the pill.

Donatello coughed slightly, wincing. "It's pretty strong stuff. It's a pain killer and anti-inflammatory combo. The Foot medic..." his eyes dropped, becoming hooded and dark, "...he put me on it, so I could keep working. I nabbed it before we left."

Splinter, despite everything he had trained his mind against over the last fifteen years, found himself wishing to personally show that medic just how _every_ wound his son had received _felt._

Then Donatello's words sank in further, distracting him from that inner well of fury. Splinter wondered for an instant if his brothers had found him tonight somehow, but they would be here with him if that were the case.

"We?"

"I-I...didn't escape on my own. Someone broke me out." Donnie's eyes returned to his, wide and sincere, and gentle. "You should meet them."

But instead of explaining further, Donatello hesitated and glanced to the side. His eyes narrowed in worry.

"Sensei..."

Splinter could see the struggle gripping him. He reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder, and Donatello hunched slightly, brow drawn down. He seemed...afraid to share something.

"My son, it is all right." Splinter didn't try to ask further, knowing it was best to give him space.

Donatello finally met his eyes again, a troubled look lingering, still uncertain. "Can you...help me to the laboratory? And...can you bring the photo from the dojo? Of you and your family?"

Splinter went still. He carefully held Donatello's words at chest length, fearful to allow himself to make a leap of faith and land wrong; to allow himself to hope.

But there was only_ one person_ he would wish to share that photo with...

As if answering his unspoken question, Donatello nodded.

"It was Miwa..." he faltered, frowning, "...or, Karai." His eyes glinted with something intense. "She _rescued_ me, Master Splinter. But she still thinks Shredder's her dad."

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AN: So, a partial reunion. :) Chapters should speed up a bit, as I'm mostly past the crazy time at work now. I'm eager for your comments, as always!


	18. A Thousand Words

Author's Note: I hope you enjoy! Thanks so much for your reviews last time, they really touched me! And thank you to my unsigned reviewer from last time, who leaves me such sweet reviews. (You know who you are lol!)

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><p><strong>Chapter Eighteen: A Thousand Words<strong>

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><p>Despite not having any serious injuries, Karai was hard put to think of a time she had felt more miserable.<p>

The feeling of physical exhaustion, and of a dozen little annoyances she couldn't fix had grown steadily worse through the long hours. Her eyes were raw and red, throat starting to burn from dehydration. Her head had begun to throb, and her muscles ached from sitting for so long. Karai just wanted to rest her head down and sleep, even if the angle would be awkward, but she couldn't ignore the persistent need to use the restroom, her bladder starting to physically hurt from holding it for so long. Her ankle also throbbed, from when she'd gotten her foot stuck during one of her attempts to get free earlier.

As the hours had passed, her initial sense of urgency was gradually replaced by outright fear. It was nearly a full day now since her father had seen her last. Donatello had been freed, the lab that housed him blown sky high. At this point, it was inevitable that someone would put two and two together. Maybe not her father, but Xever was clever, and he'd been the one who she had needled for Donatello's location in the first place. He could make the leap, which could land Karai in a world of trouble with her father.

That assumed she would be able to escape her current predicament soon, of course. Donatello had gone somewhere, and she didn't get the impression it was to retrieve a bolt cutter- which she'd _need_ to get out of these blasted restraints, as far as she could tell!

Karai slumped even further in her make-shift prison, as her exhausted mind turned to her captor. What was he _doing_ right now, anyway? He seemed so afraid the others might discover him. It was pathetic, the fact he didn't want his _own_ _family_ to know he was back again. Her mouth twisted down, as her mind's eye jumped back to how he'd begged in his sleep earlier, quietly telling someone _no_, over and over. How he'd woken up, completely forgetful of her presence, and started crying to himself.

Karai was almost glad for the tape over her mouth, because part of her had wanted to call out to him, and tell him...

_What, __exactly__?_

Karai scoffed, turning her head as if to distance herself from those thoughts, trying to brush the distress off. She wasn't Donatello's mother- or his _sister_, for that matter. She rolled her eyes at her entire situation, at how ludicrous it was.

She had _rescued_ him, hadn't she? The rest didn't concern her! She was miserable and exhausted and probably in a world of trouble now, _all_ because of him. She needed to make him understand that she was done here, and had to get _out_ of this place...

Karai's gaze sharpened, thoughts cut short as the doorway was pushed wide open. Her eyes widened.

Donatello was back. Except now, he stood leaning against his sensei, Hamato Yoshi.

Her mother's killer.

A sense of shock slowly descended. Had she actually forgotten that _he_ could be here, too?

Karai's eyes narrowed to a glare, as her heart rate picked up. Of _course_. Fate couldn't let this pass. She would have to face _this_ man- or mutant, now. She would have to _face_ the fact head on that she had freed the son of her mother's murderer. Karai snorted in derision at herself, as much as at the situation, while the pair entered the room.

Karai turned her face away. She didn't want to be in the same room with Hamato Yoshi. With _either_ of them. Her emotions were roiling, a slight feeling of nausea hitting her as every warning bell she possessed fired off. Knowing she couldn't get away made it nearly unbearable to keep still, to hold back her fear.

But Karai couldn't hold back the sense of betrayal, the intense feeling of bitter irony overwhelming her. She closed her eyes, to hide her anguish.

She had to face the fact that she was in enemy territory. Donatello might not mean her harm, but this man he trusted had _killed_ her mother, and had covered the truth with outrageous lies. And Donatello was weak right now; useless. He couldn't offer _any_ protection.

She...might not leave here alive. She was _such a fool_.

Karai clenched her jaw, refusing to allow anything to show through other than fury, and opened her eyes to a narrow squint, turning her head again to follow the two with her gaze. She was unwilling to remain unaware of their proximity.

They had made their way to a work bench, and she watched as Hamato Yoshi carefully helped Donatello to sit. Every hackle raised as she noticed how easily Donatello relied on his help. Karai wondered how many other lies he'd been fed over the years.

While Yoshi's back was turned, Donatello glanced her way. The tentative eye contact startled her at first, but then Karai glared for all she was worth. She wanted Donatello to see her fury, _see_ her sense of betrayal.

_I __**rescued**__ you. And this is how you __**repay**__ me?! _

He flinched at the look, even from where he sat a dozen feet away, but the reaction left her empty. It wasn't _him_ she loathed.

As Hamato Yoshi turned, Karai dropped her gaze, unwilling to look at him unless she had to. Still, she kept him in her peripheral vision, cursing herself again.

_Oh God, I'm such a fool...!_

Karai growled as he walked over, tears of fury pricking at her eyes. She quickly blinked them away, refusing to give him the pleasure of seeing her cry.

For just an instant, her gaze leaped to his, drawn there as he stopped only a few feet away. She immediately yanked her eyes away again, but the after image of his face lingered.

His eyes glittered with unshed tears.

As he knelt in front of her, she heard, to her outrage, a quiet sniffle. He was really _crying?_ Karai clenched her hands, infuriated at his emotional display. She leaned her head back, disgust written on her face, keeping her eyes turned away.

"_Thank_ you...for rescuing my son." His voice was rough with emotion, but it held firm as he spoke. "I wish very _much_ to free you from your restraints, but first, there is something you must see." His voice broke slightly on the last word.

Karai turned to face him again, to make clear that she saw _through_ his act, to show how much she _hated_ _him_...

But her eyes were drawn to a picture he held out. She couldn't hide her surprise, eyes going wide. That was her _mother_...!

Karai stared, unable to comprehend what she was seeing, as Yoshi brought the photo closer. It _was_ her mother. She would have turned away; _should_ have refused to look...

But she _knew_ that photo.

Karai had the same one. But while hers was only a candid shot of Tang Shen alone, this one showed Hamato Yoshi standing with her. As she studied it, Karai realized that the photo she owned was clearly cropped, while this was the original.

She felt shaken, afraid. She hadn't known her mother and this murderer were friends, had spent _time_ together...

Another picture, this one framed, was brought up to replace the first one.

It was a family portrait. In it was her mother Tang Shen once more, and with her, again, was Hamato Yoshi, and...Karai _herself_. Karai recognized her own baby picture, having seen other photos from when she was that age.

"_Miwa_..." His broken voice, so near, was hardly audible.

She glanced to Hamato Yoshi's mutated face again, mind blank with shock. He was still crying, blinking away the tears, as he placed the photos aside and gently reached forward, pulling carefully but firmly to remove the tape across her mouth.

Karai felt her world go sideways a little, everything spinning around her. She tried to breath in through her mouth, but it brought no relief. She knew she shouldn't breathe so fast, but couldn't stop taking gasping breathes of air, eyes blinking as she tried to bring the world back into focus. The spinning was getting worse, a noise was rushing in her ears, and there was a grey fuzz at the edges of her vision overtaking everything else...

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><p>.<p>

When Karai woke up, she was lying down. She shifted slightly, and something fell from her forehead; a damp cloth, warm where it had been in contact with her skin.

Someone was immediately by her side, holding out a glass of water. Karai glanced up, taking in the long fingered hand, the most human-like part about the person kneeling in front of her.

She silently took the glass, staring at it as she sat up, refusing to meet his eyes.

Her world wasn't spinning anymore. It felt as if she must have fallen asleep, going deep into a dream where everything _seemed_ real...

Karai placed the glass to her lips, and took a careful sip, letting the water settle. No. This was _no_ dream. She didn't _like_ playing games like that. She detested people who lied to themselves, and couldn't face the truth that this world could be an ugly place sometimes. Her father would never...

Her thoughts halted. Karai finally looked up, meeting the gaze of her silent host.

She stared into his warm golden-brown eyes. Neither of them spoke, as she sought something there.

And what she saw was the truth. Not through some sixth sense, some keen ability to sense deception. She knew better than to rely too heavily on something like that.

It was simply that her own eyes stared back at her, a reflection of that unique color, so rare in those of Japanese descent. Despite all the changes he had undergone, she could still see the man in the candid picture she thought she'd known so well; the man standing with her mother in the family portrait, a photograph kept as carefully as possible in less than ideal conditions...

Karai's breath hitched. The glass fell from her hands, and Yoshi reached out to catch it, hand brushing hers as he did.

She finally spoke, voice distraught. "_You're_ my..." She couldn't speak it, couldn't allow herself to acknowledge out loud the lies her life had been built around.

He nodded. There were tears in the corners of his eyes, but his kneeling form remained solid in a way only a ninjutsu master ever achieved, and his voice was firm.

"Your name is Miwa. And you...are the daughter I thought I had _lost_ for nearly fifteen years." He backed up a few feet, still kneeling, and then was bowing to her in a formal gesture, pressing his hands to the floor by her feet.

He held the bow, voice filled with regret. "I am deeply sorry that I _failed_ you, my daughter."

Karai stared at the back of his head. She remained silent, feeling dazed. It felt as if she was floating slightly above herself, watching as this played out for someone else entirely.

A movement caught her peripheral vision, and her eyes jumped up, to Donatello. He was resting across from her on a sitting chair. Something about seeing him there helped to ground her, and the dreamlike feeling lessened. The brainiac seemed determined to tell her something in sign language, pointing to her, then to himself, then putting a finger to his lips in a "shh" gesture, then rapidly repeating the motions a second time.

Hamato Yoshi straightened up again, and Donatello's antics were blocked from view. Karai blinked, gaze out of focus. She repressed the incredibly inappropriate urge to burst into laughter.

Her life was a lie.

And she had a-a _ridiculous_ half brother. His name was Hamato Donatello.

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><p>.<p>

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AN: Donnie would totally do that! lol! (Did you guys get what the heck he was up to?) Anyway, I had to kick this chapter out so as to move forward. It still doesn't feel right. But I was sitting on it, like a chicken trying to lay an egg. o_O So. Your thoughts and comments are really appreciated. Thanks for reading, you guys!

AN 2: Um...I have another (complete) story called "What Makes a Family". I meant to mention it a chapter or two back- it gives a slightly different take on Donnie's discoveries with DNA lol. It's AU as compared to this story, due to the time frame, but just wanted to throw that out there for anyone who might be interested.


	19. Reconnaissance

Author's Note: Thank you so much for your comments last time! You have no idea how wobbly I was feeling about that chapter, and your thoughts really help me tremendously. Thank you. :)

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><p><strong>Chapter Nineteen: Reconnaissance<strong>

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><p>"Smells worse than the <em>acid<em> pits."

Leo's eyes flicked to his right, where Mikey and Raphael also crouched. He kept his voice deliberately low. "Keep quiet, Mikey. We won't accomplish much if we have to run from the police."

They were across the street from the building that had blown up the night before, having set out at dusk in the Shellraiser. April was with the still running vehicle a few blocks away, at the driver's seat and ready to move if needed.

Mikey was right about the smell. Even from across the street, there was a lingering stench, as if something had been burned that shouldn't have been, leaving a nasty chemical tang in the air. The place was taped off, and police and firemen, along with a few search dogs and their handlers, were moving about in the cordoned off area.

The explosion had been covered by every major news station, and the Hamato household had payed closer attention through the day as more details came out. Apparently, the building had been owned by a Japanese entrepreneur interested in furthering genetic research, and the timing of the explosion, according to Carlos Chiang O'Brien Gambe, was considered a boon, since the entire place had been vacated just a few weeks ago. It wasn't clear as to why the scientists had been given an impromptu vacation, but the rumor was a gas leak had been found, making the building unsafe for work until the leak was isolated and repaired.

Despite the supposed gas leak, however, city records pulled by police indicated the building had still been in partial use, if energy and water bills were anything to go by. Also, arson had not been ruled out; in fact, an "off the record" comment from a fireman on the scene earlier that day was that this showed all the signs of being deliberate in nature.

Donatello _must_ have been here. Everyone, even Splinter, had agreed this sounded like Donnie's work. He had blown the building up while escaping, probably as a way of communicating to them where to look.

The problem was, Leo knew from the video the Foot sent that Donnie had a serious injury to his left leg. He probably couldn't travel far. If Donnie had been hoping they'd be paying attention to the late night news from the night before, then they might already too late. Leo hadn't shared his thoughts, but the fact that Donnie hadn't communicated all day couldn't be a good sign. The likeliest explanation was that...the Foot had recaptured him. And they couldn't be pleased with the sheer _destruction_ Donnie had caused...

_Stop_.

Leonardo narrowed his eyes, face darkening into a frown. That was _enough_. He couldn't let himself focus on what-ifs. They needed concrete information.

"Okay. This is reconnaissance _only_, guys. Mikey- see that burnt out street lamp? Head over there, get a bird's eye view. Raph- head around back. Donnie might have made for the underbrush. I'm going to try and get in closer; if I avoid the dogs I should be able to stay under the radar, and check for any clues Donnie might've left us. Meet you guys in twenty minutes?"

All three brothers nodded to each other, eyes going white as they focused, each darting in a different direction.

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><p>.<p>

A few minutes later found Raphael silently exploring the perimeter toward the back of the cordoned off area. He agreed with Leo; this place was a far cry from their concrete metropolis. The underbrush was substantial, the green providing ideal camouflage. Raphael kept his eyes trained to the ground, searching for any sign, any clue Donnie might have left them. He was _good_ at clues...

"Are you on your own, or are your brothers lurking as well?"

Raphael reacted instantly, dropping into a defensive crouch as he turned to face the familiar voice, simultaneously drawing his sai.

"_Fishface_." He scowled, and if any doubt remained that Donatello had been held here, it fled instantly.

"Searching for your brother?" Fishface stood about ten feet away, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in the gloom.

Raphael nearly attacked. Fishface, along with Rahzar, was at the center of Donatello's kidnapping, and the fish mutant _needed_ to feel pain, for hurting Donnie, for making Mikey cry, for forcing Leo to _study_ that _crummy video..._

But Raphael just barely held himself back, because getting Donnie back came first. If he could get _anything_ from Fishface...

"Is that what _you're_ doing?" Raphael's hands clenched hard on his sai, resisting the urge to throw one at his enemy's face.

Fishface stared at him, expression distant, cold. "So he has _not_ returned, after nearly twenty-four hours? Such a _clever_ one could not find a way?"

Raphael lunged. Fishface infuriated him; his tone, his questions, as if _he_ was the one looking for answers, when _they_ were the ones missing a _brother_...! Never _mind_ playing nice, he would _beat_ the fish mutant's face _into the ground!_

Fishface met him head on, briefly showing just as much anger, whipping out the knives he favored to counter Raphael's sai. He pushed Raphael slowly back with his powerful mechanical legs, as they pushed against each other.

Fishface's voice was low, and bitter. "So he has blown himself _up_, yes? Is _that_ what you are trying to tell me, Raphael? Or are you hoping that he somehow _escaped_ this inferno? Why _else_ would you be here, if not for _hope_?"

Raphael's eyes went white, and as fury wound through his body, he found the strength to turn the tables, pushing Fishface back slowly.

"What are you _talking_ _about!?_ Donnie would never _blow himself_ _up_!" Coherent thought briefly fled, and Raphael twisted around, whipping one of Fishface's knives away, then dove in with with both sai extended. He got a glancing blow to Fishface's rubbery skin, but the mutant side-stepped, making Raphael overbalance. Raphael turned his momentum into a flip to regain his center, then pushed off from a crouch, coming immediately back around to attack again.

"_Raaaah!_" Raphael pressed forward, forcing Fishface back step by step, but no blows were getting through. His attacks were powerful but unfocused, while Fishface was in control, although cold fury bled through into his expression.

Fishface growled in warning, voice still low. "Fool! The police are mere yards away, and yet you yell, you fight?!" His eyes flicked to something behind Raphael, then Fishface leaped back suddenly, flipping through the air to land a good ten feet away.

Raphael breathed heavily for a few moments, eyes still white, still focused only on Fishface. A form ghosted to a stop directly beside him, and a glance confirmed it was Leo. If he'd heard them, then Fishface was right...others would be here very soon.

Leonardo's expression was cold, eyes white as well. "_Fishface_. Did the Foot relocate Donatello?"

Fishface shook his head, a bitter smile on his face. His voice was low and furious. "If he has not returned to you, then he is _dead_." He shook his head slowly, eyes scanning the cordoned off area. "And buried. Although if you stay long enough, I'm sure you can watch the police dig him _up_."

Fishface glanced back at them both, face full of malice, and under that lurked bitter disappointment. Without another word, he leaped back again and began to sprint away, further into the underbrush.

Raphael began to follow, panting hard with the adrenaline surging through his body, face pulled into an enraged scowl, but Leo gripped him hard by the arm, yanking him back.

"We have to _go_. Raph. _Now_."

A beam from a flashlight landed only inches from his foot, and Raphael allowed Leonardo to yank him along, slowly falling into a silent sprint, heading away from the perimeter in a beeline toward their rendezvous point.

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><p>.<p>

Mikey hadn't returned yet, so they silently waited. It was dark and out of the way here, but still near enough that making much sound would bring attention. Raphael paced back and forth in quick, frenetic motions, sai still out.

Leonardo stood, not looking at anything, arms crossed. Fishface's words played through his mind, as he thought about the piles of rubble nearby, the thousands of pounds of concrete and steel and all the other debris, left by a three story building coming down on top of itself...

His mouth twitched slightly, arms tightening imperceptibly. _Donnie..._

Leo's mind turned over the reasons why Fishface might be here, apparently on his own, searching just as they were. Why, if the Foot didn't have him, Donnie wouldn't have returned home or at least _communicated_ somehow, after nearly a full _day_...

Leonardo's mouth opened, a silent gasp escaping. His form was like an ice sculpture, completely silent, completely still.

It was his _fault_. He'd...he'd killed him. He'd _killed_ his brother.

The diesel had been his idea. He thought Donnie might be able to make a weapon, to break himself out. But there had been so many accidents over the years; they all _knew_ how often Donnie was setting something on fire, blowing something up!

And that was when he _wasn't_ injured, in pain, afraid, _distracted_...

Leonardo's arms slowly dropped to his sides, limp. The strength left his form. He was breathing through his mouth, eyes glazed, Donnie's agony-filled face all he could see. The humiliation he'd endured, the fear; his last moments on this earth filled with pain, surrounded by _enemies_...

Raphael was there, hands under his arm pits, holding Leonardo up, shaking him slightly, voice a desperate hiss.

"Leo, he's _wrong_, he's _lying_, Donnie's _not_ _dead_, he wouldn't blow himself _up_! Listen to me, _listen_...!" Raphael shook him hard, once, then yanked him into a hug, which was almost painfully strong, his voice dropping to a gravely, agonized whisper. "_Listen_ to me, you idiot...he's not _dead_. Donnie's _not_ _dead._.."

Leonardo finally responded, there was despair in his voice. "_I-I failed him Raph...I...h-he..._"

"Guys...?" Leonardo stared past Raphael's shoulder, blankly, to where Mikey stood a few feet away. "What's wrong?"

Sensing Leo was about to say something, Raphael cut him off, turning around to face Mikey. His voice was shaky with repressed panic, trying to reassure.

"Nothing's _wrong_, Mikey. We ran into Fishface- he was looking for Donnie too. So, we _know_ he was here, which is good...we just...we just gotta _find_ him." Raphael bit down on the inside of his check, as he glanced at Leo's stricken face. He pushed on, eyes dropping to the ground. "He's probably holed up someplace nearby, injured. Let's...let's get back to the Shellraiser. We can talk more there."

Raphael nodded to himself, green eyes determined as he finally looked Mikey in the eye, willing him to believe his words. He gave Leo another gentle shake, keeping his eyes on Mikey. "_Right_, fearless leader?"

Leonardo nodded, silent, face down. He pulled back, out of Raphael's grasp, and slowly walked past Mikey, not meeting his eyes, as he made his way toward the Shellraiser.

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><p>.<p>

"Are you guys checking your messages? April, are _you_ checking your messages? We need to keep the T-Phones turned on, guys! Donnie could be trying to reach us _right now_." Mikey brought up his own phone for the fifth time, carefully checking his text messages, voice messages, and missed calls.

Raphael sat stoically, arms crossed, watching from the weapons station of the Shellraiser, as April pulled out her phone yet again to be a good sport, checking too.

They were on their way back to the lair, Leo at the driver's seat. When Mikey had asked why they were heading home, Leo had quietly responded that they needed to be patient, since Donatello was probably lying low to avoid the Foot, and would contact them when he was able.

Raphael knew April could tell something was wrong with Leo. But she seemed determined to see the best in the situation, and Raphael was grateful for that. Besides, Leo was..._wrong_. He _had_ to be. Donnie would _never_, while he was still _inside_...

Unless he was _that_ desperate? Or...or something went wrong. Raphael squeezed his arms closer in, face hardening further. Leo was the only one who had a clear picture of exactly how messed up Donnie might be right now. _Could_ Donnie have gotten out?

Raphael clenched his jaw, a furious grimace twisting his face, covering an underlying terror. How could he really judge, when Leo _wouldn't even tell him what kind of injuries he had...!_

Raphael breathed in through his teeth, trying to force the fury down. Now wasn't a good time, but he'd _make_ Leo tell him, later. Enough was _enough_. He didn't _need_ protecting, he _needed_ to know what kind of state Donnie might _be_ in!

Raphael felt someone watching him and glanced up, into April's eyes. She immediately looked away. April was biting her lip, hand clenching the T-Phone she had yet to put back in her pocket.

Raphael finally let his eyes drop, anger falling away. He stared down at his feet, a slow growing dread churning in his stomach.

Donnie _couldn't_ be dead. He _couldn't_ be.

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><p>.<p>

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AN: *cringes* I'm smiling like Donnie does in the episode Mousers Attack...you know, after he yells "T-Phones self destruct!" I know this isn't the family reunion you might have hoped for, but I'd still appreciate your thoughts/comments! Thanks for reading, guys.


	20. Misplaced

Author's Warning: There may be a chance that you'll get to the end of this chapter and have a sad panda face. Or a frustrated panda face. Either way, THANK you for the reviews last time, guys!

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty: Misplaced<strong>

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><p>Karai hadn't asked for details, after Hamato Yoshi had quietly stated she was his daughter and formally apologized for his failures. Instead, she had asked him where the bathroom was, and had followed silently behind as he led the way, observing his strikingly graceful and contained movements.<p>

Now she stood in font of the sink, alone in the large bathroom after having used the utilities. She assessed herself in the mirror, looking at the bags under her eyes, and how pale her face was.

She should be _full_ of questions. She'd had so many growing up that had never been answered - about her mother, about life before. Now that she knew, could _feel_ that this person would answer them for her...

Karai looked down at her hands, face twisting slightly, and turned on the tap to wash up. Stress tears began to silently gather in her eyes. It was too much, after the last twenty-four hours. Rescuing Donatello, spending all day trapped in his lab, realizing that she would be in so much _trouble_ when she finally escaped.

Now, she supposed, she couldn't _ever_ go back. She didn't think she wanted to, anyway.

Karai glanced around, trying to distract herself. This had obviously started out as a public restroom. The plumbing was odd, and she got the impression that what used to be more sinks in a row had been converted to a shower and bath. The space was brightly lit, and surprisingly tidy considering there were four teenage boys and a grown man in charge of it. As Karai reached to turn off the tap again, her eyes jumped to the back of the sink. Six tooth brushes were arranged there, obviously color coded. Red, blue, orange, yellow, burgundy, and...

Purple.

Karai's eyes went wide, breath hitching, and rested both hands on the edges of the sink to steady herself. She leaned forward, head bowed.

Donatello had _known_. He'd understood their relationship the _entire_ time. When they fought each other, when he'd first been captured, when she'd visited him with the intention of _taunting him_...

Tear drops fell into the sink, as she remembered how he'd told her they were siblings. How she'd punched him in the face for it. She laughed silently, squeezing her eyes shut.

It was all _so wrong_...her _life_ was so _wrong...!_

Karai inhaled in a gulping, involuntary motion, and rested her elbows on the sink too as the shock coursing through her body stole her strength away, leaving her weak. Her entire form trembled, and she bent further over the sink. She refused to make a sound as her agonized face heated up, the only audible evidence of her break down the tears quietly plinking onto the porcelain.

_I __**let**__ that happen...I __**let**__ her rape him...! Because of __**honor**__? __**Loyalty?**_

Karai's mouth opened in a silent wail of agony, hands grasping the sink as her body shook. She rode through the feelings of horror and guilt for several long moments, trapped. There was panic there too, growing quickly.

She couldn't...she couldn't _do_ this right now! Karai tried to steady her breathing, face still bowed over the sink. She couldn't..._think_ about that. She wouldn't be able to go out there again, and look at them, _look_ at Donatello...at her...her _father_...

Karai silently sank to the floor, hands resting on the cold tiles there, and tried to force her mind to go blank. She _had_ to get it under control. Hamato Yoshi was waiting on her. She could even picture him standing by the door, hands patiently clasped together under the sleeves of his robe.

She forced her breathing to slow further, inhaling and holding it in, then letting the air out slowly, imposing a calming rhythm, gradually overriding the powerful emotions that had temporarily conquered her.

It took a few minutes, but Karai's control returned, the upsetting thoughts carefully repressed. She was left feeling drained, yet simultaneously wound up. She let out an exhausted sigh, and closed her eyes. Sleep would be a welcome escape, but she doubted it would come.

Karai gave herself a few more moments, then forced herself to get up, avoiding her face in the mirror this time. She turned on the tap again, and washed her face, quietly sniffing to clear her nose, masking the sound under the running water. Then she stood up straight and took a deep breath, running her fingers through her hair. She allowed herself to look in the mirror again. Her face was hardened into a firm, confident mask.

Her eyes had been red before, so thankfully she didn't look too different.

When Karai emerged from the bathroom, Hamato Yoshi was indeed waiting. He had kept a respectful distance, but she wondered how keen his hearing was, with those mutated ears.

Karai nodded to him, eyes dropping respectfully to the ground. "I'm sorry about the wait."

He nodded politely in response, tone warm. "No apology is necessary. Would you like a brief tour of our home?"

"Yes, thank you." Her ankle was hurting, and it felt as though she was wearing led weights on every limb, but doing anything right now was better than just sitting...or trying and failing to sleep.

The tour was surprisingly fascinating, but even after five minutes, Karai was rethinking things as her ankle grew steadily worse. Thankfully, Hamato Yoshi did keep it very brief, ending with the kitchen, which he made clear she was free to use. After leading her back to the pit, he excused himself to make a phone call, leaving her with Donatello.

Karai wandered back to the couch, sitting down with a glass of water in hand.

Donatello had melted into the chair nearby, his entire body drooping, eyes mostly closed. The moment Splinter left the room, though, he perked up some.

Karai raised an eyebrow, as she took a much needed drink of water. She held the glass between both hands, pursing her lips as she remembered his silly antics from a few minutes back.

"What _was_ that, earlier? Your sign language sucks."

Donatello's eyes were glued to the doorway Splinter had just passed through. He cleared his throat, looking over at her, eyes suddenly wide and apologetic. When he spoke, he kept his voice low.

"So...first, I'm _sorry _about that. I didn't mean to butt in. I-I know that was a really important moment." He stared at her, face full of remorse, and Karai was struck by how genuine and powerful the emotion there was.

But it was cut short suddenly, as he glanced to the dojo doorway again, eyes narrowing nervously. "But, um...can you promise me something?" The abrupt shift was a relief, because Karai wasn't sure she could deal with an apologetic Donatello.

He continued on quickly. "So, Splinter doesn't know. In fact, _nobody_ does. About...about us." Donatello eyed her expectantly, waiting for a reply.

Karai shook her head, completely lost. "Doesn't know _what_, exactly?" She didn't try to keep her voice down.

Donatello flinched, face drawn into a nervous grimace. His voice fell to a tense whisper. "The siblingship test? You are biologically related to him. That's _fine_. But, he _doesn't_ know _I_ am. Okay? So, please don't tell him?" His eyes widened further, pleading. "I-I only meant for _you_ to know."

When she didn't respond, other than to narrow her eyes further, Donatello sighed, entire body drooping as his face took on a hangdog expression. He whispered even more quietly, words coming rapid-fire. "The others aren't related to him, remember? Just me. Like I told you before? Just don't...don't _tell_ anyone. _Please_?" He glanced over to the doorway again, clearly terrified Splinter might overhear something.

Karai paused, unsure of what to think. This _really_ mattered to him. She could even get _why_, but...

They both straightened slightly, listening. There were voices, getting nearer by the second.

"..._wouldn't_ we tell Master Splinter, Raph? He's gonna be _so_ happy!"

"No, doofus, _listen_ to me! We don't know _anything_ yet. There's _nothing_ to tell." Raphael and Michelangelo came into view, both leaping over rather than walking through the turnstiles on their way into the lair.

They were clearly having an argument, or at least Raphael was attempting to get some point across to his shorter sibling. He continued going straight, arms crossing as he walked, eyes trailing after Michelangelo, who had disappeared into the kitchen on his right.

"We have to _wait_. We don't wanna..." Raphael's face fell, worried eyes glancing to the ground, moving back and forth as he struggled to find words. He shook his head, frowning. "Just _hold off_, okay? Give Donnie a chance to contact us..."

Then his eyes jumped to the pit. Raphael's entire body jerked back in a convulsive motion, knees locking as he skidded to a halt. A few seconds passed in silence, as his eyes grew wide in shock, mouth going slack. Then his entire form relaxed, face softening, and he took a single step forward.

"_Donnie_..." Raphael's voice was barely audible.

Then his gaze skipped over, locking onto Karai. He swallowed hard, a panicked look overtaking the gentle moment. Raphael glanced around, assessing the space, eyes narrowed, hands going to his sai as he dropped into a crouch.

"_Mikey!_ We've got company!"

Karai hardly had time to react as Raphael sprinted toward her, hastily putting her water down to spring up into a defensive posture. She met his scowl with her own, expecting an immediate attack from the aggressive fighter, but instead he skidded to a halt in front of Donatello and took up a defensive position of his own, stance low and both sai raised.

Raphael was audibly growling, teeth bared in a vicious grimace, green eyes narrowed into a furious glare.

Michelangelo was there too, having responded immediately to Raphael's call, silently coming through the kitchen with a kusarigama drawn, the sharp point spinning through the air. He had placed himself behind the couch Karai was crouched in front of, eyes watchful and wide as he took in the situation. Karai glanced back, deepening her stance, her ankle twinging painfully as she did. She knew that if it came to blows, she'd be in serious trouble.

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AN: I split it up! Next chapter should be out fairly quickly, as a result. Your comments in the meantime mean a lot to me, and thanks again for reading!


	21. Hey Brother

Author's Note: This took a bit longer, as I realized there were some fixer-upper opportunities here. I hope you enjoy, and thanks so much for your comments on the last chapter!

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-One: Hey Brother<strong>

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><p>Donatello, who was mostly hidden behind Raphael now, had forced himself to sit up, a shaky hand reaching out, eyes widening. His voice was pitched high with panic.<p>

"Guys, _stop_! It's okay! Karai _rescued_ me! I wouldn't _be_ here if it wasn't for h..."

"_Lower_ your weapons." Splinter had appeared in the doorway to the dojo, his raised chin and blazing eyes matching his tone. The room went quiet.

No one moved immediately except for Mikey, who did as he was told. Raphael responded more slowly, lowering his sai as he and Karai both carefully straightened, watching each other closely.

Then the sound of a turnstile moving cut through the tense atmosphere, drawing everyone's attention to the main entrance. Leonardo stood there, eyes locked onto Donatello. April stood a few feet behind him. Leo's hand remained on the turnstile. He seemed frozen there, mouth slightly open. Even from across the room, Donatello could feel the intensity of his stare, sensing that something was wrong.

Worry settled in his stomach. Had something else happened while he was gone...?

"Donnie...you're _back_." Donatello looked away from Leo, breaking the strange moment. Michelangelo was starting at him too, eyes glittering with unshed tears. Mikey leaped over the couch and ran forward, passing right by Raphael and Karai, to stand directly in front of Donatello.

He repeated himself, voice loud yet choked with shocked joy. "Donnie, you're _back!_"

"Y-yeah Mikey..." Donatello's face fell into a gentle, lopsided smile. Mikey didn't say anything for a moment, but as they stared at each other, Donnie couldn't stop the tears pricking at the edges of his own eyes. Mikey's expression was..._wrong_. He should be happy, and he _was_...but there was so much hurt there, like something terrible had happened. Sure, he had a few cuts and bruises, but _why_...?

"_Mikey..._" With a trembling lower lip and a bobbing Adam's apple, Donnie opened his arms to his brother, desperate to comfort him.

When Mikey stepped in close and leaned down into a gentle hug, Donnie squeezed as tight as he was able, through the sore muscles and cuts. He laughed a little, the sound brittle to his ears, face stretched into a too-tight smile, determined to hold the tears back.

"Donnie..." Raphael's arms came around him from the side, and for once the hug was tender, as Raph rested a cheek on the back of Donnie's head. Donnie brought a hand up, gently gripping Raphael's shoulder. Of _course_ his brothers had been worried, and maybe he looked worse than he realized right now...but...but he had to show them he was all right, he _had_ to show them it was _okay_ now...

_I'm __**home**__... _

Donnie squeezed his eyes tightly closed as he fought against the urge to sob, a gentle gasp of shock and relief escaping through clenched teeth.

After a little while, Donatello could sense someone in front of him, watching, and opened his eyes again. It was Leonardo. He stood only a few feet in front of him, cheeks wet with tears, his face twisted into a grimace of agony. As Donatello stared up at him, he was only peripherally aware of Mikey pulling back from their hug.

Leo's appearance had sent a physical wave of shock jolting through Donatello. Leonardo's entire frame radiated shock and hurt, and as Donnie watched with wide eyes, he fell to his knees. A sound, something wordless and guttural, worked its way from his throat, as Leonardo moved like a drunk person, his motions clumsy and weak. He fell further forward, bowing his head over Donatello's uninjured leg. He tears disintegrated into huge, heaving sobs, jolting Leo's entire body.

Donatello stared down at the back of Leonardo's head, a knot of terror in his gut. Leo had lost control. Donnie had _never_ seen him like this, never imagined he could _get_ like this...

Donnie rested a trembling hand on the back of Leo's head. Almost immediately, Leonardo reached up clumsily to grip Donnie's hand between both of his own, holding it like a person in prayer, his head still bowed to Donnie's knee.

"_D-Donn-niee..." _Leo sounded broken. His voice disintegrated back into agonized sobs.

Donnie shook his head, befuddled and agonized, and couldn't stop himself from trying to speak, to say _something_, even though he had to force the words through a throat that burned.

"Leo...I'm s-safe. I'm _b-back_..." Donnie's voice cracked, and that was all he could manage, tears streaming down his face. Leonardo shook his head at Donnie's words, unable to speak, head still bowed.

Raphael silently moved forward, tears in his own eyes, and put a hand on the back of Leo's shell.

"H-he thought you were _dead_, Donnie..."

Donnie looked up at Raphael, shaking his head in bewilderment, as he continued to silently cry. Raphael swallowed, visibly pulling himself together.

"W-we ran into Fishface..."

Donatello couldn't stop the reaction, every muscle tensing slightly at the name, fear flashing briefly in his eyes. Donatello dropped his eyes, very aware that Raphael had seen the change. He watched Leo, trembling lips drawn into a thin line, and waited for Raphael to continue.

When he did, Raphael's voice held an edge of anger. "The creep was _looking_ for you at the lab that blew up last night, j-just like us. He was...he was _convinced_ you died," his voice broke, but he pushed forward, "i-in the explosion, since we were still looking for you, a-and...so much _time_ passed since it happened." Raphael's worried eyes returned to Leonardo, voice laced with pain. "I _told_ Leo not to listen..."

Donnie eyes widened. _Oh...no... _

Guilt pooled in his stomach, as he stared down at Leo. It made so much _sense_, and Leonardo - of _course_ it would have been Leo who put things together, and he'd draw the most logical conclusion, no matter who offered it to him...

_**Leo**__...!_

Donnie didn't know what to say, panic rising as he realized how much hurt he'd caused, breath hitching in his throat. _Why?_ Why didn't he tell them he was _back?_ He didn't _need_ to do that stupid _test!_ Why had he _avoided_ them? It could've _waited_, it didn't...it didn't even _matter_, and now, how could he _explain_...

"It was because of _me_." Karai's voice interjected, only a tiny tremble giving away that she wasn't entirely calm. Donatello's eyes went to her, and he was trapped, terrified. She met his gaze for a moment, but he couldn't guess what she might say.

She raised her chin, face and voice confident, as she explained. "After I helped him escape, Donatello knocked me out and brought me here. He wanted to prove to me that...," she broke off for just an instant, but immediately started again, tone still smooth, "the _truth_ about my past."

Karai pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow, pointing to Donatello's leg. "But he _seriously_ overtaxed himself with that wounded leg, so instead of proving _anything_ to me, he passed out in his lab after tying me up. I actually woke up early this morning, but I couldn't free myself or alert anyone." She shrugged. "And that's how we spent last night and all day. I'm pretty sure he would've told you guys he was back sooner- if he wasn't passed _out_. Pretty _ironic_, right?"

Karai's voice, maybe as much as her words, helped to calm Leo to the point that he managed to sit up, turning to look at her.

She raised an eyebrow and smiled down at Leonardo, crossing her arms, voice playful and upbeat. "You have one _stubborn_ brother, Leo." Her eyes flicked to Donatello's, unreadable, for just an instant, before returning to him.

Leo stared up at her, and ran the back of one shaky hand across his face, sniffling, as he worked to gain further control over his emotions. He offered a wobbly smile in return, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

When he managed a weak reply, he sounded about half his age. "Y-yeah."

Donatello watched her, too, secretly relieved, and amazed. She had calmed Leo _down_. And she explained everything away so simply! He needed to...he _had_ to thank her later. _Profusely_.

Raphael interjected, eyes narrowed. "So, you rescued Donatello _before_ you knew you were related to Master Splinter? Just...decided to forget that whole _revenge_ thing?"

Karai uncrossed her arms, caught off guard. She hadn't thought about how to explain her motivations.

Raphael's eyes narrowed further. "Last time we met, you were trying to _kill_ Ap..."

Leonardo and Michelangelo spoke simultaneously, cutting him off.

"Raph, lay _off_..."

"_Dude_, she brought Donnie _back_ to us!"

Donnie quietly spoke into the empty space that followed, voice firm, eyes on Karai. "I trust her."

Raphael crossed his arms. "Of course _you_ would, she _res_..."

Splinter, who had come to stand silently by Karai, quietly but firmly interrupted.

"Miwa _indeed_ brought your brother back to us, and she is now well aware of the Shredder's deception. She will be living with us as family, which will require adjustments from everyone here. I expect you all will work _hard_ to make her feel comfortable."

Karai glanced to Splinter, not quite meeting his eyes. His tone was firm, but calm.

_Miwa._

Had he named her that? Or had it been her...her mother, Tang Shen...

Karai looked down, trying to shake off a light headed spell. She blinked, vision blurring slightly for just a moment, and swayed where she stood.

Splinter placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, voice gentle. "I think the time for reunions is nearly over for tonight." He glanced over to April, who stood quietly near the edge of the sofa. "April, would it be all right if Miwa uses your room?"

April nodded, caught off guard. "O-of _course_, Sensei." She hardly wanted to admit to having mixed feelings about Karai using the room.

As Splinter ushered Karai toward the bedrooms, they all nodded their respects, even Raphael. Soon, only the brothers and April remained.

Donatello filled the silence, staring at Leo, tone full of remorse. "Leo, I'm so _sorry_ you thought..." Donatello dropped off, face crumpling, as Leo turned to face him from where he now sat on the ground by Donnie's feet.

"It wasn't your _fault_, Donnie." Leonardo stared up at him, an echo of the pain from earlier still in his eyes. "I'm just happy you're alive." He reached a hand out, and Donnie clasped it. Leo moved forward to give him a hug, and as they embraced, Donnie tried to ignore the tiny voice yelling that _yes_, it really _was_ his fault...he'd been so hell bent on proving to Karai that they were related. He'd been selfish and _crazy_...

Donnie closed his eyes, sighing into Leo's shoulder, grateful that his brother was more himself again. He owed Leo big time.

As Leo pulled back, a familiar voice spoke, right by Donatello's ear.

"Donnie...I'm so happy you're _back_."

Donnie's eyes snapped open. April had crouched down by his chair, her face only inches from his own, tears in her eyes. Her sudden closeness jolted him out of the safe emotional space he'd just found. When she reached around his neck, leaning into a careful hug, Donnie stared at the far wall with wide eyes and tried not to flinch, waiting for it to be over. Her arms felt like a trap, choking him.

April did pull back after a moment, returning to her crouched position only inches away. Unlike his brothers, she took time to study his face, taking in each wound with distressed, caring eyes, tears running down her cheeks freely.

"Oh, _Donnie_..." April reached up to trace the edge of a bruise on his right cheek, biting her lip as she did, brows drawn into a pained frown. Donnie held carefully still, on edge from the careful scrutiny. Then April's thumb ghosted over a tiny puncture wound, left from the taser prongs Jan had used...

Donnie gasped, reeling back, shocked as his mind leaped to that memory. His heart raced, hands turning clammy, eyes glazed with panic.

April gasped too, her hand jolting back. She closed it into a fist and hugged it to her chest, eyes wide and apologetic. "I'm so _sorry_...!"

Words wouldn't come. Donatello stared down at himself, at the dark sweatshirt covering his plastron, his face heating up. The space felt too close, everyone was too nearby. His mind was muddy and panicked, and _still_ words couldn't be found, as the feeling of being trapped only grew. Humiliation choked him, and a gentle rushing sound from the blood pumping through his head became audible, as he just wished he would sink through the ground and disappear, because he could feel everyone's eyes _still_ _on him_...

_Stop looking at me, __**please**__ stop looking...!_

The others were moving around him now, talking, but their words came through a tunnel, scattered and jumbled. Leo was saying something to April insistently, telling her it was late, how she should go home and get some sleep, and Raph was talking to Mikey, voice raised with worry...

Donnie couldn't bring himself to look up, to tell them he was okay. The whole thing felt like one of those nightmares where he couldn't move, and no matter how fast he ran he was trapped in the same place, unable to make a sound, and he couldn't _breathe_...

Then Mikey was next to him, a hand on his shoulder, gently speaking into his ear. Donnie slowly tuned in, drawn to the soothing tone.

"...s okay, bro. You're home. You're _safe_. Just relax...try to take some deep breaths with me, Donnie. Breathe...hhaaahhh. It's gonna be okay. You're safe..."

It helped. Donatello found himself focusing just on Mikey, face turning toward his little brother, away from the ugly sweatshirt he'd found in the Foot soldier's car. Gradually, the noise in his ears receded, the world coming back into focus, until finally he was left looking into Michelangelo's gentle blue eyes.

"_There_ you are..." Mikey's hand tightened on Donnie's shoulder, a soft smile on his face.

Donnie blinked a few times, feeling like someone who had emerged from a dream, and looked around. Raphael was standing nearby, fists clenched by his sides, eyes narrowed and afraid. Leo and April stood further away, halfway toward the turnstiles, but they both faced him, neither moving, both watching him.

Donnie looked back at Mikey, catching the tail end of a shared look between him and Raph, and he realized he'd scared them just now. Scared all of them.

Michelangelo gave him another bright, soothing smile. It radiated love, and healing. Donnie stared back at him, humiliated.

Donatello spoke, voice thin and forlorn. "I-I'm just tired, Mikey." He glanced around, not quite looking at the others, eyes returning to Mikey, to safety. "Everybody. I'm just...just _tired_." He was pleading, wishing they would understand.

"Dude, of _course_ you're tired! We _totally_ get that. You just spent two weeks with Rad-Brad and Shredder's cronies! I'd be, like, ready to sleep for a _week_!" Mikey rolled his eyes as if to say how obvious being tired was, grinning, his voice bright and happy, still full of love. "Bro, you deserve some _Z's_. You wanna head to your room, Donnie?"

Donatello nodded slightly, eyes dropping down. He _was_ tired. He just needed sleep. "Yeah, that would be...good."

Raphael leaped forward, as Mikey started to pull Donatello's arm around his shoulder, reaching down to take his other arm. Raphael's movements were nervous, and overly attentive. Donnie found himself focusing back on Mikey again, on his soothing, relaxed brother.

"Dude, just say if anything hurts, okay? We can't tell much through the, um..." Mikey's voice wavered for just an instant, the calm being replaced by something uncertain, something just as worried as Raphael. Mikey almost immediately fell back into his rhythm, voice happy again. "...that funky shirt you're wearing."

Donnie felt his face heat up, and nodded. "I-I will."

As they helped him out of the pit, Donnie could feel Leo and April still watching him. As Raphael and Mikey helped him toward his bedroom, they passed Splinter's silent presence too.

Donatello didn't look up.

Tomorrow. He'd be back to his old self tomorrow. Then he'd apologize for the freak out, and they'd see he was okay.

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AN: Donnie: "I'm okay!" *grins as he falls over sideways*. Sure you are Donnie, sure you are. Thanks for reading, and I'd love to hear your comments!


	22. Guard Me Through The Night

Author's Note: Thank you for the comments last time! A few of you really brought a grin to my face with your truly tubular words!

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Two: Guard Me Through The Night<strong>

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><p><em>April was leaning over him, face filled with concern. Her red hair was so pretty, picking up the harsh overhead lighting and dispersing it in warm tones. She had a gentle hand on his cheek, and Donnie smiled just a little, struck again by how beautiful she was. A feeling of awe took him, as it always did when she paid him special attention. She tilted her head slightly, returning his shy smile with a grin.<em>

_April leaned closer, the grin widening. As it grew, the concern in her eyes melted away, until nothing gentle was left. With a feeling of dread, Donnie realized something evil stared out at him, something venomous and cruel, and only then did he become aware that he couldn't move, because a metal band was restricting his throat, and his arms and legs. _

_April started laughing, but it wasn't her voice, and Donnie struggled madly, frightened moans escaping as he put gouges into his wrists and ankles, desperate to get away. His heart raced in panic, tears forming in his eyes as she drew even closer, and out of nowhere there was a kunai in her hand..._

"AAAAAAAHH!" Donnie pushed whoever it was off of him, terrified, fighting back in the dark. "Get back..._get back!_" The presence pulled away immediately.

"Donnie, it's me! It's _Leo_..." The voice was strained, an edge of panic to it.

Donnie struggled to sit up, panting loudly, wide eyes straining to make the dark form of his brother out more clearly in the darkness. His entire body was trembling. The vision of April in that lab lingered, the nightmare still nearly as real as the dark room.

He swallowed, voice hoarse and laced with fear. "Leo."

Leonardo came closer again, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You were having some kind of nightmare." His voice shook slightly. "I...I didn't want you to hurt yourself in your sleep. You were...kind of thrashing, Donnie."

Donnie stared into the darkness, grateful Leo couldn't see his face, and at the same time hating how dark it was. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, his heart still racing. Fatigue pulled at him. He closed his eyes, but immediately opened them again as the images returned. For a moment he felt desperately weak, jaw trembling as he clung to what self control he had, holding back more tears.

He was so tempted to ask Leo to climb into the bed with him and stay close, just until he could fall asleep again...

Then the door opened, and a silhouetted face appeared. Mikey spoke, voice loud and poorly covering obvious worry. "Donnie...?"

As Donnie blinked over at him, eyes adjusting to the light, Mikey was shoved aside as an angry, on edge Raphael took his place.

"_Donnie_, what happened?" He stalked over to the foot of his bed, and even though his sai weren't out, he looked ready for a fight. He glanced around, as if thinking someone other than Leo and Mikey could be in the room.

Only then did reality descend, and Donatello pulled into himself, almost as surely as if he'd hidden in his shell. His mind scrambled backward, trying to recall if he'd yelled anything in _particular_ when waking up, or if it had been a wordless cry.

Leo might have heard something; a name, a phrase, but Donatello felt certain he hadn't spoken anything...

_This time._

Donnie stared up at Raphael, expression carefully closed off. He needed to get all of them out of his room permanently.

"Raph, I'm fine." Donnie glanced sideways toward Leo, then looked away, eyes narrowing. "Who _wouldn't_ freak out, if they found some random stranger standing over their _bed_ at night?" He clenched his hands into fists, hating himself, and plowed on. "I'm sorry for yelling. But if you guys could all _leave me alone_, I promise it won't happen again."

"_Donnie_..." Donatello thought Leonardo sounded hurt, but Raphael spoke simultaneously, voice much louder.

"_Geeze_, Leo..." Raphael crossed his arms, huffing, and Leonardo fell silent. Donatello didn't look at him, face tight, and Raphael continued. "You're lucky you didn't try that with _me_- I sleep with my sai under the pillow! Why don't you get out of here and let Donnie sleep, fearless leader?" He sounded relieved, his voice almost light hearted, his words poking fun at Leo.

"Donnie." Leonardo only said his name, and the worry there was unmistakable. Donatello forced himself to turn and meet him head on.

"Leo, you don't have to hold my hand through the _night_." He couldn't hold the stare, Leonardo's eyes too telling, the memory of waking up terrified still too close. Donatello dropped his eyes, frowning hard. "Go get some sleep. I'm _fine_."

Leonardo didn't move at first, and Raphael made an impatient motion, as if he might just try dragging him out of the room. Leonardo stood abruptly, but instead of heading for the door, he went to the desk.

Donnie looked up, watching as Leonardo picked up a T-Phone sitting on the desk, and walked back to the bed. He set it on Donnie's desk chair, which he realized with a slight start had been pulled right next to the bed during the night.

"Here's your T-Phone. If you need anything, call. _Please_."

Donatello's eyes went wide for just an instant, as emotions welled up; the urge to confess that he was terrified, that he didn't want to be left alone in this room in the dark, that there were demons waiting to eat him, and he wasn't safe, he _wasn't_ okay, _please don't leave me here..._

Donnie scowled down at the bedsheets, brutally pushing those thoughts deep down, hands clenching harder. He nodded once, in a jerky motion. Leo hesitated just a moment longer, then slowly started toward the door.

As Leo reached the threshold, Donatello's throat unclenched just enough that he trusted himself to speak. "Night." He wished he could say more; say he was sorry.

Leo turned slightly, nodding, and Donnie briefly glimpsed his face, profiled in the light. His expression was unreadable, features arranged into an emotionless mask. Then he was gone, through the door.

Donnie resisted the urge to look down at his hands, ashamed. His eyes jumped to Mikey instead, drawn there by the feel of his silent gaze. He had remained quiet after first entering, and Donnie realized how focused he was, his eyes carefully searching. Donnie quickly glanced away, uncomfortable.

Raphael came forward, hesitated, then abruptly reached out to gently grip Donatello by the shoulder. "I've got a T-Phone too, if you want a glass of water, or something, or, ya know...help to the bathroom, or whatever..."

Donnie nodded, and managed a lopsided smile. "Thanks Raph." Raphael's hand tightened briefly, and he lingered for a moment more, before letting his hand drop.

"Night, Donnie." He turned to leave.

"Night, Raph."

Only Michelangelo remained now, still quietly studying him. Donnie wasn't sure what to say.

Mikey smiled softly, his voice quiet. "You want me to turn on the lamp, Donnie?"

He didn't wait for Donnie to answer, walking over to turn the desk lamp on. His smile grew into the warm, reassuring expression that had helped ground Donnie earlier that evening. "You can call Leo to turn it back off if it bugs you, so you don't have to get out of bed!"

Then Mikey was heading toward the door, and Donatello just _knew_ he meant to leave it open.

"Mikey! Close the door for me?" Mikey hesitated, then turned around, still smiling.

"Sure, bro!" He reached for the knob, and Donnie continued.

"And lock it?"

Mikey jolted to a stop, eyes widening just a little, a frown overtaking his cheerful smile. He stared back at Donnie plaintively. "Dude...you might _need_ us. I-I mean, because of your leg."

"I'll last the night. I _promise_, Mikey."

Michelangelo finally smiled again, and started pulling the door closed. "Well, okay then! Goodnight Donnie!"

Donatello's eyes narrowed. "Mikey? _Lock_ it."

Michelangelo's face puckered into an innocently confused expression. "...Oh! Right! Haha." He reached over, and Donnie watched to be sure the lock turned. "Night."

Mikey closed the door behind him, but the latch didn't quite catch, and Donnie rolled his eyes as he raised his voice. "_Mikey!_"

He heard an exasperated groan, and the door pulled closed the rest of the way. Mikey's muffled voice yelled back.

"Just don't blame me if you need something, and Leo has to chop your door down with his katana!"

Donatello grinned. "Good night, Mikey."

"Night, bro." Mikey's voice sounded grumpy, but affectionate. Donatello stared at the door, imagining his brother reluctantly making his way back to his own room.

For a long moment, Donnie didn't move at all. Then, he slowly lay back down, face toward the lamp, eyes wide open.

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><p>.<p>

Karai was caught, pinned by Leonardo's shocked eyes.

He had left Donatello's room silently, and his presence was like a shadow, the green its own form of camouflage in the half light. Karai's guard had been down; she had been listening more than watching, trying to catch the conversation inside.

It was a beginner's mistake, but then she had been off balance ever since rescuing Donatello. Karai wondered if she'd ever find her emotional center again. Her sleep had been poor, and his yell had been the end of her trying at all, as the need to know he was being looked after had prompted her out of bed, her heart still heavy with guilt over her failure toward him.

Now Leo stared at her, completely still. There were tears in the corners of his eyes, but his face was hard, like chiseled stone. As she watched, his expression visibly softened, his eyes widening just a little, and he looked vulnerable, like a teenager again.

Like a brother who didn't know how to help.

For a crazy moment, Karai almost moved toward him. Leonardo's blue eyes were sapphires, framed by an exotic jade face, and they glittered in the dark, silently distressed. She wondered if he had any idea how strongly he called to her.

Instead, she looked down, the guilt she'd felt earlier stilling her. She briefly wondered what Leo saw in her, as she stood there like a ghost, caught listening.

With a mild shock, Karai remembered how she was dressed, as she looked down at her bare feet, with toe nails painted a deep burgundy. Her makeup was gone, washed away, and all she wore was an over sized t-shirt and too-short pajama bottoms, both probably owned by April O'Neil.

Karai hugged her arms around herself, feeling exposed and plain and useless. She silently turned, to retreat to her bedroom.

"Goodnight, Karai." His voice was hardly more than a whisper.

Karai turned back, eyes wide. Leonardo was smiling, the tears dashed away. His eyes were warm and just a little hopeful.

She smiled back, her entire face brightening. For the first time in over a day, she felt hope, too.

"Goodnight, Leo."

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><p>.<p>

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AN: A silver lining perhaps? I hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading! I look forward your comments, should you feel inclined to leave them. :)


	23. 25 Or 6 To 4

Author's Note: Hey guys; for everyone in the USA/Canada- hope you had a Happy Thanksgiving. :)

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Three: <strong>**25 Or 6 To 4**

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><p><em>Scritch-scritch...scritch...<em>

Donnie was sitting up in bed, head tilted forward in a half daze, as he listened to Splinter pick the lock to his bedroom door. It didn't take the ninjutsu master long. Donnie looked up sheepishly as the door swung open, and his father stepped in.

Splinter's eyes were calmly observant. "Good _morning_, Donatello."

"Good morning, Master Splinter." Donnie's voice sounded thin and flat to his own ears.

He was exhausted. He hadn't slept last night - not a _wink_, after that nightmare. Once the adrenaline rush had faded, the pain in his leg had quickly grown, and Donnie was left with the realization that his crutch was still in the pit. Even worse, as far as he knew, the bottle of hydromorphone was still in the kitchen, with half the contents spilled across the floor. So he'd lain there, until his leg was throbbing nearly as badly as it had when he'd woken in the lab. And he couldn't do a thing about it. After freaking out his brothers with his yelling, and then blaming it all on Leo...

No. He wasn't going to call _anyone_ on the T-Phone, not in the middle of the night.

As the pain killer wore off, one thing had become excruciatingly clear. He _needed_ to be mobile, and that meant he had to get his leg fixed up as soon as possible. Then, he wouldn't be dependent on the others, and could avoid a repeat of last night. Donatello was honestly thinking about sneaking to the lab in the evenings, where if he yelled out...well, it would have be one _heck_ of a yell for anyone to hear it.

Michelangelo practically skipped into the room right after Splinter, a smile on his face.

"Donnie! Here's your medicine..." It had been Mikey he'd called that morning to ask for help, after he was sure they were all up.

Donatello sat up straighter, becoming more alert as Mikey handed him a glass of water. His brother had obviously been able to find the bottle of hydromorphone, since he held it out to him now, sans the cap. Donnie's eyes brightened as he saw it, and he clumsily fished out a pill, quick to down it.

Mikey's face puckered into a pout as he watched him drink down the glass of water. "Dude, you _should've_ listened, my turtle senses were _tingling_. I _knew_ locking your door was a bad idea..." Mikey's eyes narrowed, his expression admonishing.

Donatello handed the glass back to Michelangelo, not quite meeting his eyes in return.

For once, his brother didn't push his point, and quickly smiled again, voice brightening. "_So_, want me to help you to the kitchen? I'm gonna make breakfast - anything you want!"

Splinter, who had come to stand silently by the bed, reached out to put a hand to Donatello's forehead. Mikey's question was forgotten, as Donnie turned slightly to look up at Splinter with wide eyes. He swallowed nervously as he watched his sensei's expression.

Splinter seemed reserved enough, and his voice was warm, but his eyes were piercing. "How was your sleep?"

Donnie deflated just slightly, wondering just how bad he looked. "It's my leg, Master Splinter, that's all. Once the pain killer kicks in, you'll see."

Splinter kept watching him searchingly, and Donnie cringed inwardly. It felt like those eyes could dig inside him, and pull out everything he didn't want to share. Donnie found himself rushing on, to placate Splinter.

"A-and _about_ that, actually...I called Mr. O'Neil a few minutes ago, and he's agreed to come over and help me perform surgery. I should be in _much_ better shape by this afternoon, Sensei."

Donnie offered a hopeful smile, but Splinter only blinked down at him, his furry brow creased into something between consternation and distress. His hand dropped away from Donatello's forehead.

"Surgery?" Splinter sounded mildly angry, voice dropping lower.

Donnie looked down suddenly, distracted as Michelangelo fingered the gauze covering his shin, making as if to pull it up.

"Dude, how bad _is_ your le...?"

"Woah, woah, _woah!_" Donatello cut him off, voice slightly frantic. He leaned forward abruptly, hand stretching down to catch Mikey's as he spoke. "Mikey, do _not_ touch." Donnie breathed unsteadily, trying to work through the pain the sudden motion had caused, face turning pale.

Michelangelo's eyes jumped to his, and Donnie watched as his face scrunched into a frown of worry, his big blue eyes going round.

Donnie swallowed, and he worked to school his expression to something more neutral, suddenly aware of how he was scowling against the pain. His eyes jumped back and forth between Michelangelo's, and he strained to make his voice firm.

"I'm _fine_. It's _fine_, Mikey."

Splinter shifted, bending down, and Donatello was caught by surprise as one of his arms snaked under his knees, while the other went behind his shell.

"Come. You need to bathe."

Before Donnie could think of anything to say, he was being lifted up. He stifled a gasp as his leg was shifted, despite Splinter's gentle maneuvering, and reached up to clutch Splinter's robe, his world spinning just slightly. Mikey stepped out of the way, as Splinter smoothly started toward the door.

Donnie scowled, cheeks flaming red, as the temporary dizzy spell faded. "Sensei, I don't _need _you to...!" He fell silent, as Splinter glanced down, giving him one of the looks that meant you had better stop arguing.

Leo and Raphael were just outside his bedroom, and had to back up when Splinter came through.

"Excuse us. We will join you for breakfast in approximately thirty minutes." They didn't say a thing, glancing to each other, and backed further out of the way as Splinter swept by.

Donnie's eyes went wide at the comment, and he stared up at Splinter beseechingly, talking twice as fast as normal, voice pitched high. "Sensei, that's _really_ not necessary, I'm perfectly _okay_ on my _own! _ I-I-I don't need _help_ taking a _bath_! I'm _injured_, not crippled! Sensei, _please_..."

The others looked at each other as the bathroom door closed behind the two, muffling the sound.

Raphael crossed his arms, and snorted. "That sweatshirt's coming _off_. I _knew_ it wouldn't last long."

Mikey and Leo didn't have anything to say, as their eyes returned to the bathroom door.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

They were...at a _stalemate_.

Splinter crouched silently, just slightly out of breath, while Donatello loudly gasped for air as he dug in even further, the muscles in his arms trembling.

As Splinter had tried to set him down in the bath tub, Donatello had grabbed onto one of the poles that served as the left hand side of a frame for holding up the shower curtain. In an instant, he had wound his arms around it as if putting the thing into a head lock.

Splinter didn't want to actually _hurt_ his son, and so getting him to let go had been tricky. As he struggled to pull him away while minding his leg and other injuries, Donatello had slid down to the ground, where he promptly wound his good leg around the pole as well.

Now he sat, _clinging_ to it with all his might.

This was like trying to bathe a cat.

Donatello stared up at him, eyes a little wild, and utterly determined. He wheezed out his words, voice slightly hysterical. "I'm not...two years..._old_! I don't..._need_ you...to _bathe_ me!"

Splinter finally straightened up, deciding to give it a rest. He crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes as he stared down at his stubborn child. "I must _say_, you are certainly _stronger_ than you were at two."

Donatello only hunched further, looking slightly hunted.

Splinter slowly uncrossed his arms. He turned, and took a few steps away, to think. After Donatello had mentioned surgery, Splinter had been spurred into immediate action. The need to know, _now_, the exact extent of every injury his son had sustained had taken precedence. It was already bad enough that Donatello hid under that shirt; to think he required surgery and had thought it would mollify him to be told it had already been _arranged?_ It was simply _too_ _much!_

Part of Splinter wanted to be _done_ with it, and tear that ugly shirt off of him, if necessary. He didn't approve of this _hiding_. And yet...

He'd told himself yesterday that he would _wait_ until Donatello was comfortable.

Splinter sighed quietly to himself, studying that insistent emotion, which demanded he know everything this minute. He closed his eyes and focused inward, trying to understand it.

Slowly, it revealed its true origin, and Splinter bowed his head slightly, realizing his mistake. A saying came to mind, one he'd heard as a young boy.

_Anzuru yori umu ga yasushi...giving birth to a baby is easier than worrying about it._

He was afraid. Worry was clouding his mind, making it difficult to think clearly. And the truth was...it _didn't_ have to be now.

As Splinter inwardly acknowledged that, the stubborn need to assert himself with Donatello faded to a manageable level.

This..._wasn't_ the way. By pushing so hard, he could inadvertently do more harm than good. Out of all his children, Donatello knew best about how to tend wounds, and the fact that he had arranged for surgery meant he was looking after himself. Splinter knew he should take comfort in _that_, at least.

Having made his decision, Splinter turned back around, and started taking things from the shelf next to the tub. Soap, a scrub brush, a wash cloth. He set them in the tub, then went to the cabinet nearby and retrieved two towels. He placed one, folded, on the edge of the tub, and the other he opened up, and set along the length of the tub, directly on the tile floor.

Splinter glanced sideways to his son, who still sat hugging the pole, with a suspicious frown on his face. Splinter nodded to the second towel. "To prevent you from slipping."

Donatello just watched, his grip tightening slightly, as Splinter turned to him fully.

Splinter crossed his arms again, face pulled into a gentle frown. "I will _not_ lock the bathroom door, just in case you need help, and I will come to check on you every _five_ minutes. But..." His voice softened, as he conceded. "I will give you your privacy."

As Donatello's body visibly drooped in relief, and his expression shifted from miserable to grateful, Splinter knew he'd made the right decision in giving him more time.

Even if it _was_ the hard one.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

With only one bathroom and six people to share it, Karai breathed a sigh of relief when she found the door unlocked. She silently let herself in, glancing around, then locked the door behind her. She had heard voices coming from the kitchen, but she did _not_ feel like interacting right now. With anyone. She headed toward the tub, intent on getting a warm bath.

When Karai was only a few feet away, she paused, senses suddenly primed as she heard a gentle sloshing sound. Warmth radiated toward her, the smell of soap tickling her nose.

Someone was _in_ the tub.

Before she could extract herself from a potentially humiliating situation, the curtain pulled back slightly, and a wide eyed Donatello peered out.

"I'm _still_ okay, Sens..." He dropped off, mouth open slightly. As they stared at each other, Donatello's cheeks slowly darkened into a blush.

Karai stiffened. Then she crossed her arms and turned around, facing away.

But she didn't move. Instead, her mind went to the after image of Donatello's face, as her own initial embarrassment faded. He had dark circles under his eyes- something she hadn't even realized he could _achieve_, given his skin tone. And she hadn't missed the delicate trembling in the hand holding the curtain mostly closed.

He still looked so _fragile_.

This morning, it didn't just make her upset; it made her angry. She scowled, voice harsh and disdainful.

"Haven't you ever heard of _locking_ the _door?_"

Karai closed her eyes, immediately regretful. She slowly let her arms fall to her sides.

"I'll...go." She started forward, struggling to hold her emotions in check. Her limbs suddenly felt heavy with exhaustion.

When she was halfway across the room, Donatello replied, his voice a high pitched, childish whine.

"It's not my _fault!_ Splinter decided to check on me every five minutes, so he left the _door_ unlocked." He sounded petulant.

Karai stopped. She stared into nothing, as the comment sank in.

Then she snorted quietly, and it was like an inevitable chain reaction had begun, because after a few seconds she was quietly chuckling, and soon she was laughing outright, an incredulous grin on her face. The entire situation suddenly seemed so hilarious, it was impossible _not_ to laugh. Maybe it was all the stress, or maybe it was the irony of her entire life? Or maybe it was just...

Because he sounded so _young_, like a kid. Despite _everything_.

Karai's laughter slowly faded, and she was left standing straighter than before, balanced and in control, even in her mismatched pajamas. It felt as if an invisible weight had just been lifted from her shoulders.

She raised an eyebrow, still grinning, as she turned only slightly and addressed the empty air. "Hey, Donatello? How old are you?" Even her voice was lighter.

There was a pause before he responded. "...fifteen." Donatello's voice was guarded, and slightly resentful. But then, she _had_ just been laughing.

Karai smirked, and crossed her arms again, triumphantly. "Great! I'm sixteen, so that makes me your _big_ sister."

When he didn't reply after a few seconds, she finally glanced all the way around again.

Donatello was still peeking around that curtain, watching with shy eyes and an uncertain expression. As he saw her playful expression, his eyes slowly brightened.

When he finally spoke, there was something a little jittery there, and childishly excited. "Well..._technically_, I'm fifteen and a _half_. Plus, we go by the day we were mutated, so I'm _actually_ a little older than that, if you count the time before." He broke into a grin, and it was the most adorable thing she'd ever seen.

Karai raised an eyebrow, playing along. "Oh, _really_. How _much_ older?"

Donatello tried to sound disappointed, since she'd called his bluff about his age, but he couldn't stop grinning. "Well...my guess is about...two months?"

Karai's smirk slowly fell into a gentle smile, and she saw something vulnerable and shy in him again, as he saw her look soften.

_That's right...I _am_ your big sister, Donatello. And I'm in your life now, so you'd better get __used__ to it._

Karai gave him a crooked grin, eyes narrowing playfully again, and continued their silly conversation. "_Thought_ so. And, by the way? I'm sixteen and a _half_." She turned around again, practically strutting toward the door.

She called over her shoulder before letting herself out, unable to suppress her grin. "Enjoy your bath, little brother!"

As Karai closed the door behind her, she could still hear voices coming from the kitchen. As she made her way back to her bedroom to change, she realized she was feeling a little hungry.

_._

* * *

><p>.<p>

Splinter came into the kitchen less than ten minutes after having carried Donatello to the bathroom, and silently started to make himself tea.

Raphael sat watching him from his seat at the table, wondering why the plan had changed. He waited for Mikey to comment, since he had a way of asking touchy questions that would get Raphael sent into the dojo for some unplanned ninja training.

When Mikey kept mixing ingredients for their breakfast, and the question never came, Raphael found himself thinking back to how quiet Leo and Mikey had been after Splinter disappeared into the bathroom in the first place.

Then he figured it out. He was missing something important - something to do with that _video_ from the Foot.

The thought put Raphael into a sour mood. If Donnie still had that _stupid_ sweatshirt on after his bath, he wasn't sure _what_ he'd do.

"Good morning, Miwa."

Raphael glanced up to see Karai, who stood in the entrance to the kitchen, give Splinter a reserved bow. He noticed that she wore a sweatshirt too - the same one from yesterday. Splinter had already been on his way out of the kitchen again, and so after the greeting, he swept past Karai, cup of tea in hand.

After he had gone, Karai glanced around, taking in the space. She came over to sit at the table across from Raphael, giving him an unreadable look, before turning to Leonardo, who stood at the counter, brewing his own tea.

Leo smiled at her. "Good morning! Would you like something to drink? I'm making Oolong tea."

She smiled, her voice warm. "Sure. I like Oolong tea."

Leo's smile widened, eyes shining, as the tea pot in his hands drooped slightly. "You do? I like it too." A little liquid spilled out from the spout, and he jumped, pulling the pot upright again.

Raphael inwardly groaned, as he realized his brother still had a thing for her. He was almost as bad as Donnie was with April, with the difference being that April wasn't _psycho_.

Rapahel couldn't help it. It wasn't that he outright hated Karai, but he _didn't_ trust her. Maybe it was the sane streak in him, but he found it hard to overlook the fact that she had been _raised_ by the _Shredder_. What made Master Splinter so _sure_ she wasn't up to something, anyway?

Karai shifted her focus to Mikey, still smiling, as Leo got a dishrag to clean up the floor. "What are you cooking, Michelangelo? It smells good. "

Mikey turned around, a wide grin on his face. "That's a great question, sis!" Raphael resisted the urge to roll his eyes, clenching his glass of orange juice more tightly.

Mikey went on. "Pancakes! A classic...but with a twist!" His eyes narrowed, as he glared briefly in Raphael's direction. "Since _some_ people around here don't _appreciate_ my amazing recipes, though, the _fun_ stuff is on the side..."

Raphael cut in, completely uninterested in whatever "fun" stuff Mikey was cooking up this time, eyes focused on Karai's profile. "So, why _exactly_ did you rescue Donnie, again? I think I _missed_ that part last night."

Whatever semblance of normalcy there was fled, as Karai visibly stiffened. Her eyes flashed toward Raphael's, full of anger.

Mikey and Leo both turned, watching the two carefully. Leo had a warning in his eyes.

Raphael went on, his tone blunt. "I mean, if you don't mind my asking. _Sis_."

To Raphael's surprise, Karai's angry stare faltered after a moment, and she turned, as if dismissing him.

She calmly addressed Mikey. "I think your pancake might need turning, Michelangelo." Raphael gritted his teeth, fists clenching on the table.

Mikey blinked at her uncertainly. "Um...right!" He reluctantly turned to face the stove again.

Karai gracefully stood up, and walked toward Leo, who still stood watching. She smiled, but whatever she planned on saying was cut off as Raphael stood up abruptly, and came around the table, heading straight for her.

Leo reacted immediately, blocking his path, and glaring daggers. Raphael stared past him, eyes locked on Karai as he met Leo's shove with one of his own, grappling with him. He scowled, voice raised in anger. "How about this? Where'd Donnie get that _stupid_ sweatshirt? You _give_ that to him?"

Karai just stared at him, eyes narrowed.

Leonardo growled into his ear as they pushed against each other. "Back _off_, Raphael! We're supposed to make Karai feel welcome, or did you _forget_ that?"

"_Raphael._"

Raphael froze, and knew he was in trouble. He gave Karai one last glare, before reluctantly turning around, grimacing down at the floor, hands clenched into fists.

"Master _Splinter_, I just..."

Splinter didn't let him finish. "Please go to the dojo and practice your Kuji-kiri. You will _not_ be joining us for breakfast."

Raphael kept his head bowed, as he stalked toward the dojo.

* * *

><p>.<p>

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AN: Phew! So...the title is a Chicago song. (Check it out!) I wrote about 15 pages of stuff- full scenes- which were then tossed. Had some OCD on this story sneak up on me. On the bright side, I think I've worked through stuff that needed to be tightened down better, so I'm anticipating the pace should be better after this. I sure hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and thanks for reading as always!


	24. Everything Is Awesome

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews on last chapter! I'm at a point in this story where there are many ways jumping at me to say the same things, and so being decisive and sticking with a certain method (the path itself is pretty set, no worries on the general plot) has become tough for me. I guess that's a long way of saying that I really appreciate the feedback! :)

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Four: Everything Is Awesome<strong>

* * *

><p>"How old is the wound? And, how did this happen?" As the medical gauze was carefully peeled back, Kirby O'Neil's calm face turned slightly grim. He spoke in detached, even tones.<p>

It was a little after ten in the morning, and Donnie was sitting on one of his work tables, leaning slightly back on the palms of his hands, with his injured leg stretched out in front of him.

Donnie replied in a tight voice, cringing inwardly at the view. "It was Rahzar...um, Chris Bradford. He's got...talons for fingernails now. And, it's been over two weeks since it happened."

Kirby nodded, still studying the wound. "It doesn't look infected, which is incredible."

Donnie shrugged, and corrected the psychologist's assumption. "Actually, they started me on amoxicillin right after, so, yeah...no time for an infection to get started."

Kirby stepped back, then bent down to open one of the two medical bags he'd brought, which were sitting on the floor by the table. His voice floated up to Donnie. "There must've been some delay?"

"Ah, _no_, in fact. The medic was right there waiting." Donnie swallowed, hands tightening slightly as he realized the kind of situation that had to imply.

"I see." When Kirby straightened up again, Donnie felt irrationally embarrassed when he caught a flash of anger in the psychologist's eyes. Donnie watched as he prepared a needle to apply local anesthetic, wishing he could take the words back.

After a moment, Kirby was prepped, and with a nod from Donnie, he began working to deaden the wound, repeatedly applying the needle. Donnie focused on not jolting his leg away, face screwed into a grimace of pain, and almost as much to distract himself as to explain away things better, he continued their conversation.

"Heh...ninjas are pretty good at e-escaping. So, y-you know." Donnie clenched his hands into fists on the table, as the needle was applied toward the middle of the wound, voice tightening further. "It kept me immobile."

A hand fell on Donnie's shoulder, gripping it lightly, and he nearly flexed his leg at the unexpected contact. After recovering himself, he shot a resentful glare to the side, but the offending party wasn't looking at him.

"That _creep's_ gonna _pay_ for this, Donnie." Raphael spoke in surprisingly quiet tones, but his voice held an edge, something horrified that Donnie didn't want to acknowledge. Raphael was staring down at Donnie's shin, his face pulled into a nauseated grimace. He tightened his grip on Donatello's shoulder, and Donnie glanced away again, not responding immediately.

Donnie didn't _want_ Raphael here, as he explained the details about the wound to Mr. O'Neil. He didn't want _any_ of his family in the room, watching as they corrected the perfunctory, inadequate job the Foot medic had made of pulling Donnie's leg back together. Donatello knew that seeing his leg like this wasn't something his family would forget, and there was no reason to inflict this on them.

Everyone else had respected his wishes, _except_ Raphael, who had been dead set on staying. Donnie had watched incredulously as Raphael turned directly to Master Splinter, bypassing Donnie entirely, like a kid asking for a puppy dog, pleading that he would behave.

The mind blowing part was that their father had not said a _word_ to make him leave. So Donnie had found himself stuck between throwing a fit, which would just worry everyone, or allowing his brother to stay.

"Are you _sure_ you want to be in here, Raph?" Donnie didn't bother to mask his annoyance, voice still noticeably tight as Kirby continued to work.

Raphael turned to watch him, carefully studying Donnie, the look on his face as aggressive as it was caring.

"I'm fine, Donnie. How're _you_ doing?" His tone was surprisingly gentle.

Donatello brushed off Raphael's worry, giving him a deliberately assessing look. "Well, I'm concerned you might pass _out_." He narrowed his eyes. "You're not exactly _good_ with this kind of stuff, Raph."

Raphael's hand dropped from his shoulder. "_Geeze_." He crossed his arms and stubbornly went back to watching his shin, frowning.

Donnie felt a little tension drop away. Grumpy Raph was better than upset Raph.

Kirby interjected, eyes still focused on the wound as he worked. "We're going to need to remove the old stitches. The tissue has grown around them in places, so it'll require some cutting, Donatello."

Donnie bowed his head slightly, eyes returning to his ugly shin. "I-I figured, Mr. O'Neil."

Kirby glanced up, as he set the needle aside. "Please, call me Kirby." He smiled, and Donnie was relieved to see that the expression was gentle and reserved again. Detached. Donnie nodded respectfully, but knew he'd keep calling Kirby by his last name. Being raised by Splinter made referring to a respected adult informally hard to do.

There was a lull in conversation for a few moments, as Kirby glanced at his watch. They had to wait for the anesthetic to take effect. Donnie felt himself relaxing, as the pain was gradually replaced by numbness. His eye lids drooped slightly. The ever present throbbing in his leg, only partly relieved by the hydromorphone, had been helping him stay alert, and as it faded he was growing drowsy, the temptation to sleep getting stronger by the moment. His elbows locked, and he slumped in place as the familiar sounds of his lab lulled him, and at some point his eyes closed entirely...

"So how'd _that_ happen?" Raphael's voice was quiet, but the sound, so close by, jolted Donatello back into wakefulness, his eyes snapping open.

Raphael sounded upset again. Kirby might not be able to tell, but it was clear enough to Donnie. He unlocked his elbows, as he realized just how close he'd been to dropping off, and reluctantly followed Raphael's pointing finger down to his leg, to the puncture wounds on his thigh. Before he could think of something to say, Raphael went on.

"And _don't_ tell me _this_ was to keep you from running, too. One or the other was good enough- they didn't need to cut you _twice_." Raphael's green eyes were narrowed, and although his voice was still quiet, the arm that was pointing at the wound was held straight out, every muscle flexed.

Donnie swallowed nervously, not quite meeting Raphael's eyes, and glanced down again. He didn't want to think about _how_ it got there, but his sleepy mind, dangerously unguarded, supplied a collage of events, rushing up to answer the question by habit, because he _always_ answered questions, usually eager to supply information.

_How..._

The images were in his mind in an instant, his nearly perfect visual memory providing brutal detail. The spinning lights, as he'd been propelled like a shot put across the room, followed by blows to the gut that had him seeing tunnel vision. The glint of the butterfly knife as Fishface applied it with surgical accuracy, reflecting red after the first few cuts...

Rahzar, someone who used to be a celebrity, who Mikey used to _hero_ worship...who was still a rational, _thinking_ person – human or not – taking those claws of his and _pressing slowly down_...

Donnie turned his head away from the wound and Raphael, and closed his eyes tightly. But his mind continued on, still thinking _how_.

How he'd woken later, and _they'd_ been there; the nin, from Japan. And they hadn't even asked any _questions_. They _hadn't_ even had a _reason...!_ But they'd still hurt him, over and over, laughing about it, with the taser and their kunai, and _Jan_...

Thinking about her made Donnie physically nauseous. He'd been doing so well, _not_ _thinking about her...!_

Donnie swallowed again, this time to banish the sick feeling in his stomach, and opened his eyes, horribly and vividly awake now, and desperate to find anything else to focus on, before he really did become sick. His frantically searching gaze landed on an old project in a corner of the lab, all metalwork and angles, and his mind latched onto it. Donatello instantly conjured a mental blueprint of the project, turning it in his mind, and immediately his heart rate began to slow again.

As his mind sank into that focused space, reality reasserted itself, and Donnie was back in control, the memories relegated to a corner of his mind, the entire episode circumvented in a matter of seconds.

Donatello shrugged as his hands unclenched against the table, eyes still on the project, as he pulled it apart and put it back together again. He quietly replied to Raphael's question with a dismissive tone.

"Doesn't matter, Raph."

Raphael's hand landed on his shoulder again, and his voice dropped low, trembling with something outraged and hurting. "Then tell me _who_, Donnie."

Raphael was radiating pain, much more so than a few moments ago, but Donnie had a barrier now, his mind still turning over the project in front of him, calculating, adding to it, reinventing it to make it better. The emotions couldn't get to him.

Donnie replied, still refusing to look back around, voice calm and slightly condescending. "Look at the _wound_, Raph." Raphael was smart enough to figure it out on his own.

"Donatello." Kirby spoke gently, and Donnie reluctantly glanced over, still refusing to acknowledge Raphael directly.

Kirby gently prodded a point toward the middle of Donatello's shin. "Can you feel that?"

"Nope, we're good to go." Donatello watched as Kirby got started with pulling out the stitches, still ignoring Raphael as his brother's hand finally fell away from his shoulder. Raphael cursed under his breath, pacing in a way that made walking look like an act of violence.

Donnie kept his eyes on Kirby's progress, wishing he could tune out Raphael as he continued to pace. Donnie deliberately kept his old project in his mind's eye, the blueprint transparently interposed over Kirby's work, keeping his mind occupied. He clinically noted, as if he were watching an instructional video rather than his own shin, as Kirby retrieved a tiny knife and made a small incision to get at the knot to one of the sutures. Blood had clotted around it repeatedly, obscuring the stitching.

Raphael turned in one last tight circle, and walked back up to Donnie again, his presence like an impending lightning strike. He brought up an accusing hand abruptly, holding a pointed finger a few inches under Donnie's chin, like a loaded gun.

Donnie slowly tilted his head away, disdainful, eyes narrowing as he kept watch over Kirby's progress.

"You _can't_..._we_ can't let them get _away_ with this, Donnie!" Raphael pointed down at Donatello's leg again, hand trembling with fury. "_Look_ at what they _did_ to you! Are you _seriously_...you don't _care?!_" His voice was shaking with exasperation and hurt, chest rising and falling.

Kirby finally paused to look up, an undercurrent of anger in his voice. "Of _course_ he cares." He continued after a moment, tone gentle again, but mildly exasperated. "Raphael. I need to concentrate. My speciality isn't surgery. I haven't done something like this in years, and so I really can't afford _any_ distractions. Could you please join the others?" It wasn't a request so much as a statement.

Donnie let his eyes move up, watching Kirby as he stared Raphael down calmly. He was a grown up, telling a child they were out of line, and his brother knew it. Donnie's eyes dropped to his leg again, as he waited.

Raphael stood with his mouth open, eyes wide in shock. He finally let his hand drop, and stared back at Donnie, a look of betrayal on his face. He shook his head, eyes jumping to Donatello's leg again and, for just an instant, to his stomach. Then he turned abruptly away, face twisting further.

"Fine. _Fine_." Raphael wasn't yelling anymore. His voice was a little too rough. "I'm _gone_."

Donnie didn't turn to watch him leave. He didn't move at all, his jaw clenched so tight his ears were trying to pop from the tension, as Raphael stalked across the room.

He had..._misheard_ just now. Raphael hated wimps, and made it a point that they all knew he _wasn't_ one. He hadn't cried around any of them in years. So...he...he _couldn't_ be...

As the lab door slammed behind him, Donatello finally moved, flinching, as if the noise had snuck past his shell in a way Raphael's accusing words couldn't. Donnie kept watching doggedly as Kirby silently returned to his work.

_Why_ had Raph come in here? Why did he _insist_ on staying and _watching_ this? He didn't need moral _support!_ He- he _needed_ his family to see that he was going to be _okay_, that he was _back_ now and everything was _fine..._

Why couldn't Raphael just _see_ how much it _hurt to have him in here...?!_

Kirby didn't comment when Donnie brought a trembling hand up to carefully wipe at his eyes, sniffling quietly.

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><p>.<p>

Leo sat, silently watching Splinter as he went about the motions of setting up a traditional Japanese tea ceremony. They were in Splinter's meditation room, and for the first time in years, his sensei had explicitly requested privacy from the others. He had immediately followed up by emphasizing that anyone entering even the dojo until they were finished would be punished severely.

He had asked Leonardo to join him shortly after Donnie banished them from the lab, for his surgery.

Leonardo was familiar with every move Splinter made, as he went through the practiced, careful motions of preparing their tea. Any of his brothers could host a tea ceremony, the steps ingrained as surely as the basic kata they'd learned as children. Leo knew the main purpose behind it was to nurture a feeling of calmness and mutual respect, but instead he found himself noting each step as it was completed, like some sort of count down to lift off.

Or the apocalypse, maybe.

By the time they were done with the tea, and the utensils were cleaned and placed back again, Leonardo was sure he was developing a nervous tick in one cheek. He let out a sigh, realizing belatedly as Splinter settled across from him just how loud it had been.

Splinter raised a sardonic eyebrow. "This clearly did not have the _intended_ effect."

Leo bowed his head, chagrined, despite Splinter's sense of humor about it. "Sensei, I'm sorry." He kept his eyes to the floor.

Splinter didn't reply, and as the moment grew long, Leo cautiously looked up, curiosity getting the better of him.

His father's eyes trapped him, as they looked through, _into_ him. They were so full of compassion and concern, piercing through the layers Leo didn't want him to look past, making his fists clench slightly and his eyes go wide. It made Leonardo feel ashamed, unworthy. He had failed, and it was only thanks to Karai that Donnie was back with them now. He didn't _deserve_ the understanding and love in those eyes.

Leo pulled his eyes away, to stare back down at the floor, hands clenching further.

Splinter's voice was just as gentle when he spoke. "Leonardo, my child. I know that you seek to protect your brothers, as leader. I, too, have sought many ways over the years to protect you all. It is natural, instinctive. But...you _cannot_ hold all the weight of their trials on your shoulders, and should not try. There are burdens no one should have to bear alone, and you have a family- a _father_ – who is willing to help you, _however_ I can."

Leo didn't move. He knew that Splinter was trying to get him to relax, but the truth was that he hadn't protected _anyone_ from _anything_. He hadn't been there for Donnie.

Splinter quietly pushed on, a quiet sigh escaping. "I ask, for both your _own_ peace of mind, and also for your brother, that you share with me...what you saw, in that video."

Leonardo flinched, head bowing further, his chin almost touching the top of his plastron, as Splinter continued. "I _only_ wish to know so that we can help address what has happened to Donatello, and also so that you might have this weight you bear alone _lifted_. My son..._allow_ me to share this burden."

The moment drew out again as Leo remained silent, each second worse than the last. Then, Splinter finally moved again, pulling something from his robe. Leo glanced up, hoping futilely that it might signal a change of subject.

Splinter leaned forward, and placed two items in front of him. They were a pencil, and a paper torn from the magnetized note pad April had put on their refrigerator months back.

"I know that, sometimes, writing a thing down can be...easier." Splinter let the comment hang, as he withdrew his hand, eyes still gentle, patient.

Leonardo started at the paper and pencil, and tried to imagine writing those words in his hand, for his father to see, maybe for others to see...maybe even Donatello.

It would be like a written confession of what he'd witnessed.

Leo felt tears spring to his eyes, from frustration and humiliation as it all rose into his mind again; Donatello's screaming until he finally gave in, then the laughter, the ugly words, that _kunoichi...!_

He...couldn't. He _couldn't_ tell Splinter...! Donnie would never _forgive_ him, if he knew! And he just...he _couldn't!_

Leonardo propelled himself to his feet, face pulled back into a grimace of agony, and bolted from the room. Splinter jumped up belatedly, but the motion only made Leo run away faster.

Splinter's shocked voice followed him out of the dojo. "_Leonardo...!_"

_I won't!_

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><p>.<p>

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AN: (Everything is not awesome, Donatello! And you are a very passive-aggressive person, has anyone told you that? *glares*) I promise there should be some plot movement here soon. I've been struggling between wanting to push forward and not wanting to rush the emotional stuff. Your comments are really appreciated on this, guys. Thanks so much for reading!


	25. Sunshine and Roses

Author's Note: Someone pointed out a huge boo-boo I made last chapter! Psychologist versus psychiatrist. I switched the terms in my mind. O_O So...for the purposes of this story, Kirby switched career paths after spending time in medical school. Yeep! (And derp!)

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Five: Sunshine and Roses<strong>

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><p>When Kirby O'Neil opened the lab door and made his way to the pit to announce the surgery was complete, he only found three people there.<p>

Michelangelo sat on the couch next to April, animatedly gesturing toward the TV, which played some sort of science fiction movie. His daughter watched with a tight smile on her face, and the other girl - Splinter's daughter, as it turned out - sat on the beanbag chair looking disinterested.

She was the first to notice him, zeroing in as he walked over, eyes focused, assessing. Kirby put on a smile, and tried to straighten up, to hide how hard the last few hours had been on him, both physically and emotionally.

Mikey noticed him next, and as Kirby came to a stop by the edge of the pit, the teenager's commentary on the movie flowed seamlessly into a greeting.

"..._this_ guy fights the brain eating amoeba aliens, and then _hey,_ Mr. O'Neil! Is _Donnie_ all fixed up? Can we go visit him? How'd it go?" Mike jumped up, and April turned to follow his gaze, her tense face a contrast to Michelangelo's hopeful expression.

Kirby nodded, still smiling. "We're all done, and it went very well. Donatello's a little tired, but I'm sure he would appreciate your company..." Mikey raced past him as Kirby spoke, heading at a sprint toward the lab. Kirby turned around hurriedly. "But his cast is still drying, so be _careful_..." He gave up as Mikey disappeared through the door.

April came to stand by his side, arms crossed. "He needed a cast?"

Kirby glanced down and saw the worry in her eyes. "Yes, sweetheart. He has damage to the tib...his shinbone, so he'll probably be in a cast for at least a month."

April bit her lip and nodded, eyes down. Then she stepped close, and gave him a hug. "_Thanks_, dad. I know this isn't your thing, but I _know_ you did your _best_."

Kirby returned the hug, letting his chin rest on top of her head. "I _promise_ I did, April. And Donatello deserves a lot of the credit, too. We were a team." Kirby closed his eyes briefly, the last few hours weighing on his mind. He hadn't performed surgery in years, not since medical school, and the truth was that Donatello had been an essential help.

The boy had grown more focused as they went, particularly after his brother left the room. Kirby had been humbled, yet relieved to realize how much Donatello understood about the process. He was a true genius- a savant. There was no other way to put it. More than once Kirby had been corrected, or a choice he had made was questioned, then modified. He had accepted the guidance with what he hoped was good grace. About twenty minutes in, Donatello had ultimately requested tools of his own, actively helping, as they slowly worked to pull his leg back _together_ _again..._

Kirby tightened the hug slightly. "April, I...think I'm going to head home. Is that okay, sweetheart."

April pulled back, looking up at him, and he knew she'd heard the pain there. "Of course, dad." He stared down at her for a moment, searching her face, remembering how she had cried in her room last night. He hadn't heard her cry like that in years.

But right now her expression only held comfort and love, and Kirby was reminded of what a strong person his daughter was. He broke into a gentle, wistful smile. Kirby selfishly wished she'd come back with him now, but he knew he couldn't ask her.

"Be safe, April." He stepped back from the hug, and put his hands on her shoulders. "And get someone to escort you, please, if you stay late?"

She snorted softly, her pride hurt a little. "I'm a kunoichi in _training_, dad..." she conceded as his gaze hardened. "But I can definitely do that."

April smiled reassuringly, and then she turned, heading to the lab just as eagerly as Mikey had moments before.

Kirby turned to leave, thinking that he'd just keep the medical gear here for Donatello to use, since he'd bought it all that morning anyway, just for this surgery. He took a step, then realized with a double take that the other girl was still there, watching him. He stopped. What was her name again?

She walked over, silent and focused. "Will he regain full use of the limb?"

Kirby frowned, taken slightly aback at the blunt question. "It's...too early to say. There wasn't any nerve damage, which is incredible, given the nature of the injury and the length of time the wound was left poorly attended after the assault. If he hadn't been on antibiotics..."

He pulled up short, glancing to the side as he realizing that he had jumped to using a tone he reserved for other medical professionals. Kirby looked back to the quiet girl, who seemed so deadly, somehow, even in a baggy black sweatshirt and jeans. He sighed, wondering in a tired way how many methods she knew to kill a person.

"He'll need a lot of physical therapy after the cast comes off. We'll know for sure in a few months how his chances look."

She nodded, looking down to the floor. For the first time Kirby saw a hint of concern show through, and he realized belatedly how much she cared about the answer. He went on, letting his intuition speak for him.

"He'll need a lot of care too, beyond physical therapy. For what's been hurt in here." He put a hand to his chest, his expression gentle, and her eyes jumped up again, going briefly wide as she saw where his hand lay.

Then her face smoothed, becoming unreadable, and to his surprise, she bowed, hands going to her sides in a brief, graceful motion.

"Thank you for attending to my brother, Mr. O'Neil."

She walked past him, eyes focused ahead, and Kirby turned to follow her progress, watching as she slipped into the lab after the others.

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><p>.<p>

"...gonna have to get out our old crayon set, you are gonna have the _coolest_ cast _ever!_ This is going to be _so_. _Epic_." Mikey grinned, thrusting out both hands to make double victory signs. "So, what movie do you want to see, Donnie? Oh man, Mr. Murakami's gonna be so happy to hear you're back, by the way...I just realized he doesn't _know_ yet!"

April smiled, watching as Mikey exuded enough frenetic energy for him and Donnie combined. Donatello was slumped back on one of his work tables, propped up on his elbows, smiling as Mikey kept talking a mile a minute.

"Dude, where _are_ the others, anyway? They need to be _in_ here!" Mikey turned abruptly to face April, who was still making her way across the lab. "Hey April, I'll be right back! I'm gonna go find Leo and Raph!" She paused, caught by surprise as Mikey zipped by her on his way out. Then she looked over to Donatello, smiling wryly.

Her smile faltered. Donnie didn't look happy anymore, his smile gone. As April tried to hide her surprise and disappointment, he sat up, propping himself up with his hands rather than his elbows.

April continued on her way to him, fixing her smile back firmly in place, trying to hide her thoughts, but Donnie's melt down from last night was suddenly front and center in her mind, like an unwanted visitor in the room making her feel awkward and uncertain. It had shocked her so much to see him like that.

The smell of plaster, along with undertones of sweat and antiseptic tickled her nose as she stopped a few feet away. Donnie remained silent, a drastic contrast to the enthusiastic greetings he always had for her.

Then April realized he was probably thinking about last night too, and had to be embarrassed. Her heart twisted at the thought, and she immediately felt bad. After what he'd been through, he had every _right_ to have a freak out! She just needed to draw him out of his shell, and he'd be smiling again in no time.

"So, your first _cast_." She smiled warmly up at him. His seat on the table meant she had a little higher to look to reach his eyes, as he was easily a foot above her. The case ran from just below his knee, curling around under his heel to hold his ankle in place.

Donnie glanced to the side. "Y-yeah. And hopefully my _last_, too."

April's smile widened, encouraged by his gentle tone. "You know, when I was a little girl, I actually had a phase where I _wanted_ a cast." She snorted softly, rolling her eyes at herself. "Then in fifth grade, I fell and broke my wrist - it needed a cast for about a month." Her tone turned wry. "_So_...I guess I got my really _dumb_ wish _granted_." April stepped closer, eager to share further, since Donnie was sure to find it interesting.

She held her hands out, placed next to each other for comparison. "See? If you look, you can tell my wrist is thicker right _here_," she pointed to the spot briefly, "because of how the bone grew back after the break." April glanced up, but instead of leaning forward to study the differences, Donnie sat even more upright, his eyes narrowed while his chin stayed up, as if he was looking at something slightly distasteful.

April pulled back, feeling awkward again, and tried to mask her confusion.

Donnie finally commented, after she had moved slightly away, voice still soft. "That's...really interesting, April." But he didn't elaborate, as he normally would.

April gave herself a little inward shake, trying to reassure herself. He was tired- _exhausted_, in fact! She couldn't think of a time Donnie had circles under his eyes, and he'd just undergone surgery, never _mind_ having to be a guest of the Foot for two weeks! There was no reason to take his reactions personally. She ought to be like Mikey- full of enough energy for the both of them!

April forced another smile, injecting enthusiasm into her voice. "So! What movie do you want to see? It sounds like Mikey has a _big_ celebration he's planning."

A ghost of a smile reached Donnie's face, and April immediately brightened further, relieved to see some of the tension leave his form. He shrugged, the movement strangely self deprecating. "Hah- he's always looking for a chance to throw a party."

April's eyes widened at his words. After so much fear and worry and _pain_...

April stared up, stepping in closer, and he looked down at her with wide eyes. "Donnie. This _is_ something to celebrate. You're _back_ again. We didn't _know..._" She bit her lip, closing her eyes for a moment as she struggled with the dark thought that they could've lost him forever. She leaned into him spontaneously, wanting to feel him close, and put a hand on his chest, her other arm circling gently around his form. April pressed gently into his warm, sweat-shirt covered body, resting her head against his lower chest.

She...was _done_ crying. He was _back_ now. Her Donnie was _back_. And he needed to understand how much he _mattered_ to her.

"I was so _worried_, Donnie."

April tightened her embrace a little, sighing deeply, finally banishing the urge to cry. She leaned back to look up at him, feeling a little shy, but wanting him to _see_ how much he meant...

Then their eyes met.

April suppressed a gasp. Donnie's eyes were pinpoints, wide and staring. He was looking right at her, but...he was someplace _else_, staring _through_ her, and she realized belatedly that he held himself utterly still, as if his muscles had frozen in place.

He looked trapped..._afraid_.

It was almost as bad as last night.

April tore her eyes away, shocked. She let go of him, hands jumping away as if burned. She stared down at their hands on the table, close to him not touching, eyes jumping back and forth as she tried to _understand_, tried to regain a sense of calm, her heart racing. What...what had she _done_, to make him _look_ at her that way? He...he _loved_ when she held his hand, or hugged him- he _loved_ when she was affectionate...

April blinked rapidly as the threat of tears rose stronger than before. What had they _done to him..?_

"Karai..." April's eyes went wide, as she heard Donnie call out quietly, voice thin with tension, almost pleading.

April slowly looked up, uncertain, blinking rapidly to banish the tears in her eyes over what had just happened between them, _afraid_ of still seeing that look in his eyes...

Donnie was looking past her. April turned, following the line of his gaze to see Karai, who stood a few feet inside the lab's doorway. She was watching them both.

Seeing the other girl there immediately put April on guard, and the emotional turmoil became something controllable as it was replaced by the need to be strong, to protect Donnie when he was so weak. A frown settled on her face.

April wondered how long Karai had been _lurking_ there.

"Hey Karai, come over here for sec!" The energy in Donnie's voice caught April by surprise, making her flinch. He almost sounded like his old self; focused on something...and relieved.

She watched, unbalanced, as Karai raised an eyebrow and slowly made her way over, much like a cat deciding, by coincidence, that it wanted to come their way. Karai's eyes travelled around the room, meandering, her walk unhurried. She came to a stop a few feet from them both, crossing her arms, and her eyes fell on Donatello again, face calm and unreadable.

"Here I am."

Donnie was suddenly staring at April, all his focus on her, as if what had happened a moment back between them never occurred. It felt like whiplash, catching her completely off guard.

"April! Could you lend Karai some of your clothes? She doesn't have _anything_ - except what she's wearing right now."

Donnie studied her expectantly, and April struggled for a moment to find her voice. "Um...well, Karai's kind of _bigger_ than me." She followed up hurriedly, trying to sound more eager, desperate not to disappoint him. "But, I can _definitely_ get her some clothes from the store, Donnie! _Absolutely_." She smiled, but Donatello's eyes were already back on Karai, smiling at _her_, and April felt a wave of hurt and anger rise up.

She looked over at Karai, eyes narrowed, and was surprised to see how uncertain the other girl looked. Karai had uncrossed her arms, still watching Donatello, eyes wide. She glanced over to April, and when she took in her expression, she immediately relaxed into a smirk April truly detested.

"_Thank_ you, April." April loathed the sound of her voice, too. It was so obvious she was being sarcastic! Couldn't Donnie _see_ that?

April narrowed her eyes further, the irrational urge to strike the other girl nearly making her raise a hand. "Oh, _no_ problem, Karai. _Really_."

Their conversation was mercifully interrupted by Raphael's voice filtering through from the lab's entrance. "..._telling_ you, get off of my _shell_, Mikey, or I _will_ toss you in the pool...!"

Raphael appeared in the doorway, with Michelangelo pushing at him, twisting around to avoid a half hearted swing at his head.

"Come _on_, Raph, you can _not_ be a grump today!"

Raphael stopped, eyes trailing over to Donatello. He fell silent, reluctantly allowing Mikey to tug him forward until he stood half a dozen feet away. His eyes dropped, an uncertain look on his face, and Mikey fell silent too, suddenly aware that something was going on between his brothers.

"Hey, Raph...?" April glanced back to Donatello, and there was the look she realized she had been craving, as he focused on Raphael. Donnie was gentle and open, and attentive.

"Could you...help me get to the pit? I've got the crutches Mr. O'Neil brought, but I'm feeling kind of wobbly..."

Raphael looked shocked for just a second, still staring at the ground, then he was looking up at Donatello, his eyes wide and searching.

Raphael's expression immediately softened. When he spoke, it was with a gruffly gentle tone. "_Course_, Don..."

Raphael walked up, eyes still on Donnie, and April stepped back as he approached. He paused to put a careful hand on Donnie's shoulder, and something strong passed between the two brothers as they looked at one another; a wordless affirmation of what they were to each other. A crooked smile, half apology, fell across Raphael's features. Then, he was gently helping Donnie down, Mikey jumping in to help too, and April and Karai both stepped out of the way further, as the brothers started Donnie on a careful walk to the pit.

Before April gathered her thoughts enough to think of picking up Donnie's crutches, Karai smoothly bent down to retrieve them, following close behind the three brothers, to leave April standing alone by the work table.

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><p>.<p>

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AN: I have no witty comments (are they ever witty? O_o) I hope you guys enjoyed!


	26. Unintended Consequences

Author's Note: It's so wonderful to know that people are enjoying this thing, and your thoughts are always fascinating...but I'm being lazy and tired, and thus reclusive this time around about PMing. *cough* I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Six: Unintended Consequences<strong>

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><p>"I don't know about leaving Karai alone in the lair, Mikey."<p>

Raphael's voice was colored by the slight echo of the curving concrete walls, and came from behind. They were taking a subterranean route to Murakami's, running in the semi-dark. Since Leo still wasn't picking up his T-Phone, Mikey had enlisted Raph to come with him to pick up the food. The alternative was to take April, and leave his hot headed brother with Donnie and Karai...

And even if Mikey _didn't_ know better than that – which he totally _did_ – Raph's first comment since leaving the lair _totally_ proved he'd made the right choice.

Mikey kept his voice lighthearted as he called Raphael on the obvious mistake. "Dude, she's not _alone_. Donnie and April are there- not to mention Master Splinter, even if he _is_ meditating. And you _know_ he has crazy-good ears."

Raph went from sounding worried to aggravated. "Yeah? A lot of good _that_ does when you tune out the obvious, Mikey! April's the only one there who seems to realize that Karai's still a _threat_. And I think we all know how _that_ fight would go down."

Mikey frowned as he leaped over a piece of debris in his path. "Donnie trusts her, so _I_ trust her. Besides, you don't _know_ she's a threat, bro." _You're just afraid._

Mikey definitely knew better than to say _that_ out loud.

Raphael raised his voice slightly. "I know better than to assume! Sensei _taught_ us that- _he'd_ know better too, if she wasn't his daughter. It's the _perfect_ trap."

Mikey shook his head as he kept running. "_What_ trap, Raph? I mean, even _I_ know she could've called the Foot last _night_."

Raphael didn't reply for several seconds, and Mikey's thoughts turned to pizza giyoza. He was hungry, and this conversation was lame.

When Raphael spoke again, he sounded like he was talking to himself more than to Michelangelo. "I don't know...maybe she's after something _else_..."

A moment later, Raphael let out an audible gasp, and skidded to a stop.

Mikey reluctantly circled back, coming to a stop to face Raphael a few feet away, concerned but impatient at the same time. "Raph...?"

Raphael sounded shocked. "The _retro_-mutagen. Mikey. It _is_ a trap. She's here to figure out the formula! That's _got_ to be it! They figured out the other stuff was fake- that _kunoichi_ on the roof could probably _smell_ it! Geeze...it _was_ diesel." He crossed his arms, voice dropping to a growl. "I _knew_ that was a stupid idea..."

Raphael dropped off, shaking his head in the gloom bitterly, looking as though he had half a mind to turn right back around and confront Karai then and there. When he did start to turn, Michelangelo jumped forward, reaching out to catch Raphael by the elbow.

Mikey didn't want to have this conversation, but...Raph was Raph. They _were_ having this conversation, now, and he'd better take it seriously, or his brother would be in the doghouse for..._ever_, probably.

Mikey's voice dropped low, all silliness gone. "Raph...I think she's on the _level_." Raphael's theory did make him kind of uncomfortable, but...it was also wrong. Mikey _knew_ it. And sometimes you had to trust your instincts.

Raphael snorted, still half turned away, and Mikey continued before he could say something. "No, _listen_. I think her heart's in the right _place_, bro. I think...she felt bad. She wanted to get Donnie out of there. And _remember_, Donnie knocked _her_ out- she didn't _ask_ to _come_ here."

Raphael shrugged off Mikey's hand and turned to face him fully again, tone condescending and exasperated. "Oh, come _on_, Mikey! She felt _bad?_ That's ridiculous! You are the most _naive_...!"

Mikey's temper flared. He raised his voice to a yell, cutting Raphael off. "_Yeah_, Raph, she felt _bad!_ And you know what, it's _not_ ridiculous! It makes _total sense_, because people don't like to _watch_ other people getting _tortured!_"

Raphael stiffened, and then Mikey was backing up, twisting and ducking to avoid Raphael's attempts to tackle him.

"_Mikey...!_ You _tell_ me what was in that _video!_" Raphael's voice was an outraged howl, the pent up worry and pain from the last few days fueling his movements, making him too fast for Mikey to avoid.

Raphael dove forward into a pouncing leap, and they both tumbled to the dirty concrete, rolling over one another as Mikey struggled to break away again. They both growled at each other, as they grappled.

"Raph, get _off_...!" Raphael only doubled down, and in a few furious movements, Mikey was on his stomach with an arm twisted behind his back. "Oww...ow, _ow_, Raph, get _off_ of me!"

"No! _Tell_ me what you _saw!_" This _wasn't_ Raphael getting back at him for playing a prank, or being annoying. He was upset and dead serious, voice raised in something between a yell and a scream of rage.

"What's under that _shirt_, Mikey? You think I can't _tell_ that you _know?!_"

Mikey's lower lip trembled, tears gathering in his eyes. The truth was he didn't _want_ to tell Raphael, because it just hurt to think about it so _much_, and he knew Raph would be so furious. Who _knew_ what he'd end up doing? It was bad enough that Donnie was hurt - they didn't need Raphael running off!

Raphael pressed down, tightening the arm lock, his outraged voice ringing in Mikey's ear.

"The way you and Leo just _pretend_ like it's not _there_...you think- you _think_ we should just let Donnie _pretend?!_ Just let him go through this _alone_, Mikey? Is _that_ what you _think?_ Just...just let him wear that STUPID shirt for, _hey_, maybe _forever!?_ And act like _nothing happened?! _ Just- just 'cause it's _easier_ for _you?!_" Raph shook him slightly. "What if it _was_ you, Mikey?" Shock and hurt overtook Raphael's anger, leaving his voice weak. "What if it was _you._" He fell silent for a few seconds. Mikey could feel his brother's hands trembling.

"I can't _believe..._" Raphael dropped off, and his grip went completely slack. For a few moments, the only sound was their own breathing, harsh from the brief struggle.

Michelangelo gently pulled his arm forward, out of Raphael's limp hands, and when he moved to get up, Raphael let him, falling back to sit in the gloom, huddled against one of the curving walls. Mikey watched his brother, crouched a few feet away.

Raphael moved his hands as if he didn't know what to do with them, the motions filled with frenetic energy. In quick succession, he braced them against the ground, then against his thighs, then his knee pads, gripping them for an instant, and then crossed his arms in front of his chest. The movements were panicked; a person trying to deny their overwhelming emotions. Raphael finally drew up one knee and resting an arm on it, bent at the elbow, with the hand against his temple, hiding his face.

Mikey slowly crawled over, and sat right next to him, knowing better than to allow the barricade Raphael's arm formed to get in the way. Mikey reached an arm over Raphael's shell, then pulled him closer, until their foreheads touched. Raphael allowed the contact, his hand falling away slightly from his face. Mikey listened to his brother's shuddering breaths, as he tried so hard not to cry.

Mikey exhaled slowly through his nose, brow furrowing in pain as he struggled to keep his voice low and calm. "There's no way, Raph...no _way_ we'd ever do that." He felt a twinge of guilt, because there had been some truth in Raphael's words. Mikey would never _really_ let Donnie pretend...not _forever_, anyway. But it just felt_ too soon_.

"It's just that he's hurting so bad right now, and it's not just...physical, bro. It's _deeper_ than that."

When Raphael replied, the anger from before was completely missing. His voice was thin and pleading, making him sound like the kid he really was. "How? What'd they _do_ to 'im, Mikey?"

"...guys?" Raphael and Michelangelo both started, and a second later Raphael was pushing Mikey away, gaining distance, hurriedly scrubbing an arm over his face.

"Leo?" Raphael's voice was gruff, and still a little too thin, as they both stared into the dark.

Leonardo came forward, his form taking shape in the tunnel. He walked up to stop a few feet away, his expression impossible to make out in the gloom. He had both katana drawn. "I heard yelling."

Raphael sprang up, crossing his arms. "Oh, that- _that_ was just me and Mikey rough housing- _right_, Mikey?" He nudged Michelangelo with his toe where he still sat, and Mikey slowly got up too, putting a hand to the back of his head, smiling.

Raphael went on, voice a little too tight, and artificially upbeat. "Where'd you take _off_ to, anyway? Donnie's surgery is over - we're actually on our way over to Murakami-san's to get food to _celebrate_."

Raphael's words sat in the air, sounding unnatural and wrong. The word _celebrate_ left a bitter aftertaste, as if they'd all just taken a bite of a favorite candy to realize it was a poor substitute, disguised under a pretty wrapper.

Leonardo sheathed his blades in a single motion. "That's...great." The comment felt forced, insincere.

Mikey broke the unhappy mood, walking forward as he talked, and grabbed each sibling by the arm.

"Yeah, it _totally_ is! Come on, I'm starving...Leo, come with, I kind of ordered a _lot_. We can use another set of _arms_, bro!"

Leonardo and Raphael silently followed as Mikey took off at a sprint.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"How do you even have cable down here? We _are_ in the sewer, right?" Karai raised an eyebrow as she watched Donnie flip through channels on the television. She sat to his left on the couch, while April sat to his right.

Immediately after Raphael and Mikey took off, Donatello had picked up the remote, searching for something to watch. He looked like he was about to crash, slumping down far enough for his head to rest against the back of the couch, eyes half lidded.

Donatello replied, sounding amused. "Yep. And the answer is: because I'm a genius." He stated it as fact, not even bothering to sound smug.

Karai snorted. "Oh. That explains _everything_."

Unfortunately, Donnie's slumping posture gave April a clear view of Karai, who sat perfectly straight, with one leg drawn up under her. She looked totally comfortable in her skin, with an elbow propped on the back of the couch.

Did she _always_ look so superior?

Donnie smiled slightly. "Actually, it does." He flipped the channel again, quickly moving past a music video with pop stars wearing way too little clothing, to land on a cartoon with talking ponies.

He paused there, and April almost said something. She had watched this show as a little girl. If she was honest with herself, she _still_ watched it sometimes.

"Your American cartoons are insipid, Donatello."

Donnie shrugged, and changed channels again. "I'm Japanese-American, which means, by _that_ logic, you may as well give me credit for all anime, too."

Karai grinned. "I never said all anime was _good_."

"Super Robot Mecha Force Five is pretty good."

Karai looked genuinely surprised. "Hah! You've _heard_ of Smurf?"

Donnie's eyes cut to the side, giving her an amused glance. "Is that what true fans call it? And shouldn't it be Surmf?"

She snorted again, smirking lopsidedly. "Smurf is easier. And I watched that show when I was about five years old." She raised an eyebrow. "What's _your_ excuse?"

As the conversation continued, April sat with her hands in her lap. She felt like an awkward outsider. They were...were _bantering_. Donnie and Karai.

Two weeks ago, Donnie had been her best friend in the world, and now she might as well not be _sitting_ there. The hurt April felt slowly snowballed with every comment they exchanged, but she couldn't think of a thing to do or say, not after what happened in the lab earlier. She was terrified of seeing that damaged, shell shocked look on Donnie's face again.

Or maybe almost as bad...indifference.

The conversation took a pause as Donatello's channel flipping brought them to an image of a burnt out husk of a building. As April's eyes widened, recognizing the image, he turned up the volume, the narrator's voice becoming audible.

"...ve been found, buried under the rubble. I repeat, we now have two _confirmed_ fatalities, in relation to the Yoshida laboratory explosion. Officials believe that both victims may have died from smoke inhalation, rather than from the initial explosion itself, and were then buried later in the night as the heat from the fire brought down more of the building's structure."

On the TV, Carlos Chiang O'Brian Gambe appeared front and center, frowning at the camera. "Now, _here's_ where it gets truly bizarre. Police have gone mum in sharing additional detail, but a reliable source has confirmed for Channel 6 News that these two individuals were tied - that's right - _tied_, hand and foot, which _may_ explain why they didn't flee the premises after the initial explosion."

Gambe raised an eyebrow dramatically, his expression serious. "If any doubt remains as to whether there was foul play, at least in _this_ reporter's mind, this fact _alone_ stands to confirm something darker at work here. Additionally, as we shared earlier today, we believe this facility may _actually_ have been in use after all, which raises additional questions. Why would all personnel have been changed out a few weeks ago, and is the timing merely _coincidence_? We've invited a few specialists to the show, to discuss what might have been..."

April practically fell out of her seat as Gambe's face was replaced by Captain Ryan and Dr. Mindstrong grappling in an arena, while a distraught Ensign Crankshaw looked on from the sidelines.

"_Much_ better. I hate the news." Karai had taken the remote from Donnie, and sat with her arms crossed, conveniently putting it out of his reach. She pursed her lips, eyes still on the TV. "This episode's a classic. You ever watch Space Heroes, Donatello?" Her voice was tight, her words mechanical and forced. She glanced to the side, eyes not quite reaching his face.

Donnie was still staring at the TV, unblinking. When he replied, he spoke so quietly his words were hard to pick up. "Yeah, Leo...Leonardo's a big fan." April watched his profile, seeing the shock there. Her hand clenched to her chest, heart in her throat.

He didn't have to say a thing, because the incredible tension radiating off of Donatello left no doubt. They had all guessed it anyway- that he had blown up that building. But even so, after all they had been through with the Kraang and the Foot, the Turtles had never used lethal tactics, and it was obvious it hadn't been his intention this time, either.

_Oh, Donnie..._

Karai stood abruptly, catching April by surprise. She didn't move for several seconds, her posture ramrod straight. Then she turned her head, just slightly, toward Donatello.

The two spoke simultaneously.

"You _know_ this wasn't..."

"Karai, it's _not_ your..."

Donnie went on first. "...Your fault. It's _not_." His voice caught, and when April looked back to him, Donnie's expression was pleading. But his eyes wouldn't quite meet Karai's face, either.

Karai crossed her arms, her face a scowling mask. "That's ridiculous. Of _course_ it is." Her voice was cutting, harsh, but buried under the scoffing tone, April heard a tremor.

For the first time, April felt herself soften a little toward the other girl.

Donatello replied, his voice a gentle counterpoint as he tried to comfort, desperation making his tone thin. "_You_ didn't blow up that building. This is on _m_..."

He dropped off as Karai abruptly started away from them, the television remote still clenched in one hand. Her movements were just as harsh as her voice had been, shutting out the conversation. As she headed toward the bedrooms, Donnie didn't try to say anything else.

The struggle between Captain Ryan and Dr. Mindstrong continued to play on the screen, the sound somehow more prominent after Karai left. The melodrama coming from the television was out of place, belonging to a reality with pizza giyoza and late night skateboarding, and Mikey snoring during group meditation. As the seconds ticked by and April tried to think of something to say, Donnie gradually slumped even further, as if the conversation with Karai had taken every ounce of remaining energy he had. His eyes had returned to the television, but it was clear he wasn't actually watching. As he stared, his lips slowly twisted into a miserable, bitter smile, a muscle in his cheek jumping as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.

April reached out a hand, hating that she hesitated at all, but his reaction in the lab was still so fresh, and she didn't want to make this even worse...but he _needed_ a hug, and to be reminded that he had been beaten and desperate and hurting, and it _didn't matter that there were two dead people, not if it meant that __**he**__ wasn't one of them..._

"Donnie_..._"

Donatello talked over her, and his voice barely maintaining control. "Guess we're stuck watching Space Heroes. M-must've seen this episode ten times by now." Donatello abruptly reached an arm up to grip the back of his neck, his forearm resting against the side of his head, and the motion brushed her frozen hand just slightly, pushing it away. The baggy material of his sweatshirt hid Donnie's face entirely from her view, cutting her out just as surely as Karai had by leaving.

April let her hand drop, and turned to watch Captain Ryan's struggle, feeling just as helpless as Crankshaw.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Karai locked the door, and strode to the bed Hamato Yoshi had told her last night was hers to use. She sat down and, as if only just noticing the television remote still clenched in one hand, finally set it aside. She looked around her at the sparsely furnished room, and her gaze landed on a pink dresser. It was sized for a ten year old girl, full of little twists and twirls to the carved wood. It had little dings here and there that had been carefully covered over with a new coat of paint. The imperfections were hardly visible, and she might not have noticed them if she weren't studying it so intently.

Karai wondered where they'd dredged this silly, feminine thing up from, and realized belatedly that it probably came from a thrift shop, or even the dump.

Most of the stuff here looked second-hand. Donatello's laptop took it a step further - it was pieces of a dozen other used computers, somehow made to work as a unit. Karai wondered how many other things he had cobbled together that way. Despite everything he'd been put through, he had made a supreme effort to bring her here, cobbling together his family too, retrieving her from the Lost and Found of the Foot clan.

_This_ was her home. Her family had been _here_ her entire life, under the streets of New York city, so far away from Japan and their roots.

There was an ornate little mirror set into the top of the dresser, and Karai was caught briefly by her own reflection in it. Her face was drawn, making her look older, and she seemed plain and colorless, still lacking the make-up she had grown so accustomed to. She looked like a stranger.

Karai put a hand to her face, covering her eyes, as the shock she had tried to repress tore through her mind, coiling in her stomach. She wanted to _hate_ those two nin, wanted to hate _all_ of the Foot! They had _no honor!_ But instead, she was left with a surreal horror at the fact that they had died. Guilt twisted around the feeling, causing her heart to clench, as she fought against tears.

Karai always thought that if she took a life, it would be because she was righting a long standing wrong. It would be righteous; vengeance and justice rolled into one. And she had been _prepared_ to kill for those reasons. When Leonardo and his brothers had schemed behind her back to kill the Shredder - the man she had _thought_ was her only family left in the world - she had decided it was time to put an end to it. She was going to have her vengeance, before Hamato Yoshi and his clan could steal her _other_ parent away, too.

Karai snorted quietly, her free arm hugging her waist, aware of the bitter irony there. Silent tears ran down her face, the hand still pressed to her face a flimsy barrier against her emotions.

_These_ deaths were a...a _joke_. A _mistake!_

Her mind conjured an image of the two nin tied on the ground, awake and terrified at the inevitably approaching smoke crept across the ground toward them. _Had_ they woken up, before the fumes killed them? Had they struggled to escape their bonds, desperate not to die?

How..._long_ had it taken?

Karai wiped at her face, hunching forward as more tears spilled, her mouth pulling into a bitter grimace. The truth was, she hadn't thought of them at all, focused solely on getting Donatello out of there.

Donatello didn't want her to blame herself. But...she realized that it didn't _matter_ if it was her fault, or his. Their actions had consequences, and she hadn't foreseen the results. And it wouldn't stop with these two deaths. They had set off a chain reaction.

The Foot would be out for _blood_.

Fear added to the mix in Karai's stomach, as her mind's eye summoned the scowling face of the man who had raised her. Even in dealing with her as a daughter, his tolerance had always been limited. If he realized she was behind this, would he have any left at all? And if he realized she had discovered the truth of her ancestry, would whatever he felt for her endure?

Karai's eyes went wide in horror. Had he..._ever_ loved her? Or was it a fantasy - a gullible assumption she made as a child, long ago..?

Utterly overwhelmed, Karai fell slowly onto her side. She drew her legs up, curling into herself, and cradled her head in her arms as she cried.

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><p>.<p>

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AN: This feels like a longer chapter in which nothing much happens lol! Hope you guys enjoyed. Thanks for reading!


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